


Once upon a time (Translation)

by redangeleve



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Smaug, Frerin Lives, Frerin is Thorins older brother, Love at First Sight, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Thráin Lives, Thrór Lives, Young Thorin Oakenshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redangeleve/pseuds/redangeleve
Summary: A chance encounter between a young dwarf and an elvenking leads to a love against all reason. Resistance must be overcome, battles fought and fate itself conquered, before there can be hope for something that seems utterly impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Once upon a time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298597) by [redangeleve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redangeleve/pseuds/redangeleve). 



Once upon a time

Chapter 1

"Frerin, look over there, what is that? They are not mortal men, are they? "Curiously, Thorin pointed down the hill to a group of trees. His older brother, who was just about to swing the new ax their father had given him, looked moderately interested, but when he realized what had attracted Thorin's attention, he immediately dropped the weapon and hurried instead to his brother.

"Down," hissed the older dwarf, pulling Thorin at his vest behind a large juniper bush. "Before they see you." The younger one disregarded his brother in disgust, his eyes still focused on the beings in the valley. A dozen tall men with shining armor rattled there in the shelter of the trees. Their horses, noble and yet strong animals, peacefully grazed beside them. Even at a distance, Thorin could see the differentness of the men: they had long hair, features carved like marble, and ears that were pointed at the top, "These are elves from the dark forest," explained his brother. "Actually they rarely come from the protection of the trees, unless they are traveling to one of the other settlements."

"What would be so bad about them seeing us?" Thorin pondered. For him, the elves did not seem menacing; on the contrary, their behavior were apt to arouse his curiosity.

"Father thinks you can not trust them. Their sight bewitches the senses, they bewitch one with their words and grandfather even says ... "

"I'm not interested in what grandfather says," Thorin said impatiently. "When they are so close to the Erebor, it`s a common custom to introduce ourselves." The dwarf made preparations to rise, but Frerin held him by the shoulder. "Thorin, do not," his brother warned him, but the younger one simply shook his hand off and stepped out behind the bushes without hesitation. He had hardly set foot in front of the other when he had already attracted the attention of the elves. Four of the men pulled their weapons and guarded the rest of the group, but Thorin was not distracted.

Horrified, Frerin watched as his brother raised his hands as he slowly descended the hill. He himself crouched behind the bush, clasping the ax tightly. Although he would probably have no chance against so many opponents, but if the elves would lay hands on Thorin, he would still come to his aid.

Thorin, however, had no inkling of the fears of his brother, but went to the strangers without further hesitation. "I come in peace," he shouted so loudly that the elves could hear. "All I want is to sit on a word with you and enjoy the cool shadow." When the young dwarf had almost reached the group, one of the guards stepped in his way.

"No step further, dwarf. It's better you move your way, "the Eldar warned, holding the tip of his sword in front of Thorin's throat.

"There is no cause for violence." The man was so big that Thorin had to tild his head back to look at him. "I just wanted to say a neighborly greeting."

But in spite of the friendly words, the guard lowered the sword by no inch. "I do not want to be more specific." His blue eyes looked coolly at Thorin, but another Eldar spoke up.

"It's good, Finarel. Let him pass. He is just a boy. "The guardian did as he was ordered, and stepped aside, so that Thorin could see who had spoken of him. Although he was only sitting on a rock, the elf was the most imposing creature Thorin had ever seen. Fine and yet striking features framed by silvery blond hair, which reached down half his back and was held out of his face by a thin silver lace, and Mahal, those eyes. Bright, almost silvery orbs looked at him and invited him to come closer.

"My lord," Thorin greeted the elf with a nod of his head. "I am not a boy, but Thorin, son of Thráin, grandson of Thrór, king under the mountain."

The Eldar smiled slightly at these words. The soft beard on the cheeks and chin of the dwarf was a sign of his young age, but like every son of Durin, he was too proud to admit this. "Hail Thorin, prince under the mountain, and forgive me that I did not recognize the number of your years at first sight. Sit down at my side and share the supper with me. "

Thorin could not refuse this offer, and so he sat under the watchful eyes of the other elves at the side of the stranger who offered him a loaf of bread and a wine-bottle. At the sight of the food, Thorin realized that he was actually hungry, though they had not thought of eating or drinking when they left the mountain hours ago. He heartily bit into the elf's bread, surprised at how delicious it was and then rinsed with a sip of wine afterwards.

"Tell me, Thorin, why is a dwarf out in the open of the protective caves?" Asked the Eldar, who himself did not eat, but hesitantly sipped the wine.

"It is like this," said Thorin, between two mouthfuls. "The Erebor is my home and I love the stollen and corridors, but I also want to get to know the country around the mountain, visit our neighbors and allies, even if my grandfather does not appriciate it."

"Why is this so?" The Eldar paused.

Though Thorin noticed how the wine loosened his tongue, he took another deep sip. "He does not think it's safe enough, but I'm not afraid. I am able to defend myself, as my teachers can very well confirm. "

The Eldar acknowledged the dwarf's self-confidence with a nod. "That may be, but have you ever been involved in a real fight?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure I could take it on with anyone. Even with one of your warriors, "the dwarf boasted with a glance at the elven guards.

"I am certain of that," replied the Eldar, with a smile. "Maybe another time. The day is passing by and there is still a long journey ahead of us. The Midsummer festival is already in full swing. "

Perhaps it was the wine that had made him brave, or even Thorin's innate intrepidity, but when the Eldar rose, he was not ready to part. "Tell me, will you take the same route back to the dark forest?"

"Yes, we will," the Eldar replied with a glance at the dwarf, who had raised, too, but reached only to his chest. "But our feast is not like yours. The festival we are going to visit will not come to an end before the end of a decade. "

"Then I'll wait for you here on the day, in exactly ten years," Thorin promised gravely.

The look from the silver eyes seemed longing for the dwarf, almost sad. "In ten years you will have forgotten me, Thorin, son of Thráin."

"No way. This will not happen, "the young dwarf replied brusquely.

The Eldar smiled reluctantly at the security that was in the words, then he replied, "If the Valar approve it, we will see each other here in ten years." A guard brought a white horse with a silver saddle and the Eldar rose elegantly , "Farewell, Thorin, son of Thráin."

"Wait!" Though Thorin was not a friend of horses, he was so close to the animal that he nearly touched the elf's leg. "Tell me your name, so I can name the image that I will keep in my mind."

"They call me Thranduil, son of Oropher." One last time the Eldar looked down at the young dwarf, then led his horse away from the trees to the escaped path that led from the edge of the forest through the valley. The other elves followed his example, but the road was so narrow that they could only ride one behind the other.

"I wish you a save journey!" Thorin shouted after the elf. For a long moment, he watched the tall warriors on their majestic horses, then suddenly remembered that his brother was still waiting for him on the slope, which is why Thorin was making the ascent. In fact, Frerin was still half hidden behind the juniper bushes, but when he saw his brother, with a blissful smile trudging up the hill, he finally left his cover, holding the ax still in his hands.

"My heart almost cracked from worrying for you," Frerin greeted the other reproachfully, and when Thorin did not reply, he added something conciliatory: "Now tell me, how were the elves?"

"Wonderful, I have dined and drunk with them." Lost in the memory, Thorin's gaze glittered even further, so that Frerin was seriously concerned that the elves might have caught his brother with their spell.

He shook his head, "Grandfather will not be pleased with that."

This finally broke the spell. Thorin knew that when his grandfather would hear about it, he would probably never leave the Erebor again, and even if the reunion with Thranduil was still very distant, the other dwarves shouldn`t suspect anything. "He does not need to know, is it, Frerin?"

The younger dwarf looked at his brother, so that Frerin sighed involuntarily. Of course, he would not tell Thrór anything, because he loved his brother too much. Thorin was a free spirit, unlike most dwarfs. He needed the place and the freedom to go where he wanted to go. If Thrór punished him, Frerin would not be able to bear that, so he finally returned. "No, Thorin, he don`t. Not a single word. "

XXXXXX

Thorin had never been a great friend of books, he left this to his sister Dís. He preferred to go outside through the woods and meadows in search of adventure, but since his encounter with the elves, he paid more visits to the Erebor Library, than in the previous years of his life. Although the dwarfs in Middle Earth were not necessarily famous for their literary abilities, the library housed a considerable number of books. Most were concerned with the history of the dwarven tribes, the processing of precious stones, or the secrets of mining. There were also poems, songbooks and ancient stories about love and adventure, myths and legends, and also a little corner about the other peoples of Middle Earth. Greedily, Thorin devoured the legends about the Valar and about how the elves had come to Arda. He read about the Quendi, the Eldar and the Avari, and in fact he even found a passage about how Oropher and his son Thranduil came from Lindon to the Dark Forest and ruled there as a king until he fell in the battle of Dagorlad and his son followed on the throne.

"King Thranduil," Thorin whispered, fascinated and awed at the same time. Actually he could have imagined himself, just as Thranduil had behaved, and the other elves had treated him, but the realization did not frighten him, nor did it change his mind to want to see the elf again. After all, he, Thorin, was also of royal blood. So they were virtually equal, only the number of their years separated them. But in his youthful self-confidence, Thorin was sure that the power of a dwarf from the Durin family could indeed reach the vitality of a fivethousand-year-old elf.

 

Tbc ..


	2. Chapter 2

Once upon a time

Chapter 2

Where are you now?  
Atlantis  
Under the sea  
Under the sea  
Where are you now?  
Another dream  
The monster`s running wild inside of me  
I`m faded  
I`m faded  
So lost, I`m faded  
I´m faded  
So lost, I´m faded

(Alan Walker, Faded)

 

The forest on the shores of Lake Rhûn seemed to glow from within, so many lanterns were hidden in the branches of the trees. Their bright colors seemed to compete with the stars in the sky. The lights were enchanted, so that they pulsed to the beat of the instruments whose lovely sound filled the clearing. Harp and flute, lute and tambourine, drum and a polyphonic singing invited the people to dance. Many followed the call and jumped, hopped and turned to the music. Many wore flower wreaths in their hair, or plaited leaves or flowers around their joints or clothes. The tables on the edge of the clearing were so laden with the most delicious food, fruit, bread and wine, they alomst broke. No one knew how long the festival had already lasted. People celebrated, danced and sang day and night, and those who were too tired to go to their rooms simply lay down on the spot to rest for a few hours.

Lost in thought Thranduil sipped his wine goblet. The grape juice was exquisite, full-bodied and heavy as he liked it, and it quickly doused his senses, but although the Elvenking had already plentifully awarded the wine, he did not want to get into party mood. It was not the festival in itself, this was wonderful, almost intoxicating, as always when the elves in honor of the Midsummer Day came together. No, it was his restless mind that simply prevented him from finding fulfillment in dance and song. Previously, he had never missed an opportunity to celebrate opulent festivals; had served the finest wines and tastiest delicacies and often danced through the soles of his boots, but although he still gave one or the other party or even visited one himself, he had recently become increasingly hollow, like an empty shell of himself as if suddenly the burden of his entire five thousand years of life lay on his shoulders.

"Why is the king of Lasgalen so thoughtful on such a beautiful night?" Galadriel stepped to him softly, like a breeze, and sat down in the free chair to his right. Her long hair was held out of her face by an intertwined diadem with silver ornaments, and her white dress fluttered around her as if it had come to life. Thranduil became aware that the queen of Lothlórien was not wearing any shoes, which explained why he did not hear her coming. But Galadriel did not need shoes to prove her uniqueness. Already many men had fallen for Galadriel's beauty, but it was neither her graceful figure nor her angelic face that kept enthralling Thranduil, but her eyes, which bore the sheer infinite wisdom and power that the Elf bore in herself.

"I'm sorry," Thranduil apologized with a wistful smile, "if I worried you with my brooding."

Galadriel returned his smile with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. "There's no need to apologize, but I wonder if there's anything that could lighten your mind."

"It's nothing," Thranduil protested, his fingers simultaneously probing the design on the chalice. "From time to time the blessing of immortality bothers me. Nothing you should not know. "

The she-elf nodded wisely. "If you want to hear my advice, I would say that it is time to choose a new companion. A thousand years you are mourning for your wife, that must end, Thranduil. The most beautiful night can be indescribably dark, if you go through it alone. "

"I'm not alone," Thranduil said as brusquely as possible without sounding rude. "I have my son." It was not only since that moment that the Elvenking wished to have Legolas at his side, but he had had to leave him in the Greenwood Forest to watch over the realm. The darkness, which repeatedly attacked the forest ever again, had to be fought already at the first signs before the spiders or worse invaded Lasgalen.

"The love of a father is not like a man's love for his companion, you know that as well as I do," Galadriel countered by placing her hand on his forearm in a compassionate gesture. "Legolas is a blessing to your house, but he can not give you what you are missing. An eternal life without a partner has already cost so many Eldar's spirit. Do not make the same mistake. Without Celeborn, I would only be one half of something, incomplete, lost and not who I am now. "

"It's not like I've closed my heart to this possibility," admitted Thranduil, "but since my dear wife had died, no Eldar ever touched my heart again."

"Maybe you were looking in the wrong place. Love sometimes finds us where we least expect it." With these words Galadriel stood up and left the Elvenking to his thoughts.

Thranduil sighed deeply from his heart, then took another sip of wine, letting his eyes wander idly over the celebrating elves. He had known some of them for centuries or more, but none of them managed to capture his eye for more than a moment. They were beautiful, the men and women of his people, without question, but they lacked the inner fire. Her graceful dance was merely an empty glow, her laughter an echo of the gaiety that had once prevailed on such feasts, and the conversations that came up from time to time almost invariably revolved around the voyage to the West and to the fact that their people more and more disappeared from Middle-earth. And even though they were still there, they themselves seemed to have become shadows, in whose eyes there was only a faint glow, where the elvish fire used to burn.

His wife by the Valar, she had the fire. His beautiful, wise wife had been life itself, laughing, crying, and yes, fighting and celebrating. So many nights they hadn`t stopped dancing until the stars in the firmament were already fading and when he had attended her, it was like dipping into the well of life. She had been his sun and his moon, his stars and his sky, all in one and when she died he believed the world should cease to exist, but nothing like that happened.

Still, it seemed to him that the sun was shining weaker since, the birds singing softer, the stars so pale they were barely noticeable. The time of the elves was over, well true. The yearning to sail to the west meant that more and more settlements of the Eldar were abandoned and even of the few remaining elves, there were fewer and fewer offspring. Legolas had been one of the last children born in Mirkwood, but this was more than a thousand years ago. Strengthened by the power vacuum, humans gradually filled the empty space, but what were they in view of eternity? Hardly more than a drop in the ocean of time. Thranduil had seen kings come and go, empires build and fall apart. But as belligerent as men were, there had been more than one Eldar foolish enough to hang his heart on one of those mortals, but it always ended the same. Death was inevitable for humans and to be left alone for the immortal elves the worst of all punishments. For that reason alone, Thranduil had never considered choosing a member of the mortals as his companion.

As he followed his thoughts, the picture of the young dwarf who had crossed his path on the edge of the Greenwood Forest came to his mind. Thorin, son of Thráin, grandson of Thrór, prince under the mountain. Even for dwarven scales, he was young, maybe seventy or eighty years old, barely more than an adolescent, but a look into his eyes had shown Thranduil that he already had the all-consuming fire. He was so alive, curious and open minded that the Elvenking could not help liking him and it had been more than clear that Thorin felt the same way. In the brief moment they had spent together, Thranduil had felt an affection he should not feel. Although dwarfs had a longer life span than humans, they too were mortal. For that reason alone, it would not be wise to consider a liason with a member of their people. But even if ignored, Thorin was still Thrór's grandson, and the king under the mountain would not allow Thranduil to mess with his head. The old dwarf suspected thieves and treachery behind every corner, and would probably immediately assume that the Elvenking used Thorin to get hold of the treasures hidden in the halls of Erebor. As Thranduil knew him, Thrór would even start a war if the Eldar stole his grandson's heart.

No crush was worthy of jeopardizing the good of his people, and Thranduil was long enough ruler to always put reason above his feelings, even if they were so strong. Of course he could hope that Thorin had forgotten him long ago. A decade was a long time for a young dwarf like him. Probably he had long been looking for a dwarfen girl, he could flirt with, but still it was advisable as a precaution to take another way back into the forest. Just in case, because if Thorin actually waited for him at the edge of the forest, it would be better to let him wait in vain. He preferred to disappoint the dwarf by letting him believe that Thranduil broke his promise than to start something that could only end in tragedy.

But as much as he was aware of the facts again and again, Thranduil could not help but think again of Galadriel's words:

"Love sometimes finds us where we least expect it."

 

Tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, that this chapter ist so short, the next will be longer I promise


	3. Chapter 3

Once upon a time

Chapter 3

Wherever you go  
Whatever you do  
I will be right here waiting for you  
Whatever it takes  
Or how my heart breakes  
I will be right here waiting for you

(Richard Marx, Right here waiting)

 

To say that ten years passed quickly like a blink of an eye would have been foolish. No, ten years was a long time, even more so when you were still a young dwarf, but Thorin had sworn to use the time until the reunion with Thranduil to become a handsome man by dwarven standards. He wanted to please him at any cost, even if he did not really know what elves thought was nice. The sons of Durin were naturally handsome men with thick hair, striking features, and eyes as blue as sapphires, but presumably there would be more required than a fair glow to leave a lasting impression on the Elvenking, Thorin suspected. Even months after their meeting, the dwarf remembered Thranduil just as he had looked at the moment they met, from the tall figure and the angelic face, to the incredible eyes that followed him each night into his dreams. Thorin did not know if this was how it felt like being in love, because so far this feeling had been completely foreign to him, but even though it sounded strange, seeing Thranduil only once, he still felt a yearning in his heart that was stronger than all the other emotions. 

By day, however, his status as a prince under the mountain did not leave him much time to indulge his yearning. Since his father and grandfather expected him to learn all about mining and processing gems, he went - albeit reluctantly – on training at the various craftsmen of the Erebor. On one day Thorin himself would swing the hammer and the hoe or drive the scuttlebuttles through the narrow passageways, and on another wander through dozens of dark tunnels in search of veins worth mining, or sweat in the hot fire of the forge where the precious metals were melted from the stones. Over the years, he became aware of how the hard work changed his body. His back became broader, his thorax more voluminous, and his arms and legs were criss-crossed with thick strands of muscle, but although his body was constantly in motion, his thoughts were always centered around his reunion with Thranduil.

Whenever he could, Thorin tried to slip away unnoticed to sit alone on the slopes of the mountain. Then he looked down at Mirkwood and thought back to his encounter with the Elvenking. Whether Thranduil still thought of him or had he already completely forgotten him by celebrating the feast? Since Thorin had always been a lone wolf, his behavior did not arouse any suspicion, only Frerin had been cautious in the first weeks after meeting the elves, so Thorin tried hard to act as normally as possible. In fact, he never talked to his brother about the encounter again, and little by little Frerin seemed to calm down, until Thorin was finally convinced that he had it even forgotten.

Since his brother was the oldest son in the family, he would one day inherit the throne from his father, so that Frerin had more to learn than Thorin. He had to attend the meetings, learn to conduct trade talks with the people of Dale and be present when dwarven delegations from the surrounding villages were visiting the Erebor. Although Thorin was close to his brother, Frerin's head was so full of responsibility that he barely had time to talk to Thorin, as they had done when they were children. His sister, on the other hand, was more attentive than her brother, and so, one day when Thorin continued his studies of the elves, Dís joined him in the library. Startled, Thorin nearly jumped up, for he had not heard her coming because he was absorbed in an old dictionary that had fallen into his hands by accident, and in which various phrases had been translated from the common tongue to Elvish.

"Are you alright?" The young dwarven maid asked him suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Thorin replied distractedly. "Of course, I'm bursting with health." 

"I do not mean that," Dís replied, rolling her eyes. "You've changed, Thorin. You may be fooling Frerin, and father and grandfather are only interested in the affairs of Erebor anyway, but you can not fool me. "

"This is called `growing up`, my dearest sister, "Thorin teased her affectionately. "That will happen to you one day, too."

Dís shook her head. "Do not be absurd. I'm not talking about your beard and your strange whims. I mean that look you always have when you think nobody sees you. There is somebody, is not it, Thorin? Someone who stole your heart. "

"Do not be silly," Thorin immediately protested a little too hard. "That's only in your imagination."

"I do not think so. You do not have to talk to me about it, after all, I'm just your little stupid sister and I do not understand love, but I still want to tell you that I'm listening if you want. "With these words, Dís got up and kissed her Brother on the forehead, before she pulled away.

Thoughtfully, Thorin looked after her. He would have loved to talk to Dís or one of his friends about his yearning for the elf, and yet he knew instinctively that they would not understand. He scarcely understood himself what was going on with him. Dwarfs and elves have shared a deep and honest dislike for centuries, and both his father and his grandfather spoke of the elves as cursed magical beings that clouded one's mind. But Thorin could not and did not want to believe that. Resolved, he returned to his studies. He was determined to welcome Thranduil at their next meeting in his mother tongue. The pronuncing in Sindarin was difficult for the dwarf, who was accustomed to the low-vocal khûzdul, but if Thorin truly had a quality, then it was stubbornness, and so he learned the syllables day after day until he almost could recite the words in his sleep. 

So the years went by and the anniversary of their meeting would soon be the tenth time. The closer the possible reunion came, the more nervous Thorin became. What if Thranduil did not come? What if the elves took a different route to Mirkwood? What if they came, but the Elvenking had forgotten him? And what if not, but he did not like what he saw? The doubts weighed heavily on Thorin's shoulders, and the fact that he could not share it with anyone made it even harder. Still, he was eager for the wait to come to an end.

XXXXXX

The sun had hardly kissed the horizon when Thorin got out of bed. Since the dwarfs had declared him a man in a ceremony, he no longer shared his room with Frerin, but had a room to himself. Contrary to his habit, he took a long bath that morning and then dressed in some of his best robes. Carefully, he combed his beard and hair and braided the strands next to his face into neat braids as was the fashion of the dwarfs, then climbed into his freshly cleaned boots and made his way towards the kitchen. As it was still early in the morning, he did not meet many dwarves in the hallways, for which he was quietly grateful. Although he did not have to give an explanation of where he went since he was considered an adult, the less who knew he was leaving the mountain, the better. The master of the kitchen packed Thorin supplies for the whole day, then he got himself an ax and a dagger from the armory just in case, before finally leaving the kingdom under the mountain through the main gate.

Thorin loved the sight of the rising sun over the lonely mountain. He left the city of Dale on the left, but turned instead to the west. The nearby forest shone in a lush green and the surrounding meadows had been speckled by the summer with colorful flowers. The chirping of birds was in the air as Thorin wandered over the hills and felt the first rays of sunshine on his skin. Far in the distance he could see the waters of the Long Lake that reflected the light, and Thorin simply thought how beautiful his homeland was. 

It was not a long way to the spot where he had met the elves back then, and soon after, the dwarf passed the juniper bushes where he had hid on that fateful day. He plunged down the last few meters until he came to the stone Thranduil had been sitting on. He had been here countless times since then, sliding his fingers over the cool rock and telling himself that he still felt the elf's presence. Thorin's fingers moved almost tenderly over the rough stone, before finally settling on it.

In remembrance of their dinner at the time, Thorin took a piece of bread and a wine tube from his bag and ate his breakfast, then waited. The dwarf knew that it might take a long time before the elves reached Mirkwood. Based on the direction they had taken then, he knew that they had ridden east, but where there were still elvish settlements and how far they were from here was beyond his knowledge. To pass the time, the dwarf broke a branch off a nearby tree and began to carve. Gradually the sun rose higher above the forest until it finally reached its zenith and still there was no sign of the elves. Meanwhile, Thorin had already carved some wooden animals, a wild boar, a hare and a deer, so that his back ached from the crooked sitting and he decided to stretch out a little in the shadow of the trees. He took an apple and a few grapes from the bag and then used it as a pillow and his vest as a blanket, while he lay under the protective branches of a maple tree and ate. The summery warmth, the light breeze, and the rustling of the leaves made him sleepy despite the excitement, so it did not take long before he finally fell asleep.

Thorin did not know how long he had slept when he suddenly heard voices. The rustling of clothes, the clink of armor and words in a foreign language reached his ear, causing the dwarf to start in surprise, only to find himself surrounded by elves. The men had tied their horses to the trees a little away and were eating a meal, while two of them kept watch without paying any attention to the sleeping dwarf until Thorin cleared his throat.

"Greetings," said the dwarven prince, aware that all eyes were on him as he got up. His heart pounded as he looked from one elf to another, but though their faces seemed vaguely familiar, he could not see Thranduil among them.

"Greetings," one of the men replied. "Sit with us and join us in our meal."

Though it stung Thorin's tongue to ask about the Elvenking, he instinctively knew that it was impolite to refuse the invitation, so he hurried to approach and receive the food offered.

"Hail, Thorin, son of Thráin, prince under the mountain." Thorin whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice. How long had he been waiting for this moment, how had he consumed himself after the words from this mouth, as if after this sight. His heart was pounding as if it wanted to leap out of his chest when he saw Thranduil barely three paces away. The Elvenking still looked the same as he had when they parted. Tall, majestic and unreal beautiful. A small smile played around Thranduil's thin lips as he saw Thorin's cheeks flush with excitement, then the dwarf had regained his composure and stepped forward.

"You came," Thorin said, then remembered the words he'd learned to meet. "Mae govannen, Lord Thranduil."

"Mae govannen, Prince Thorin," the Elvenking returned the greeting. "I came as promised."

"I was not sure ...", the dwarf began, but did not finish the sentence.

"Nor was I," Thranduil replied. "Let's take a few steps." With a wave of his hand Thranduil gestured to the guards not to follow them, then the two men silently moved away from the rest of the elves. Only when they had gone a few strides, Thranduil again addressed the word to the dwarf. "I wish you had not come."

"Why?" Thorin asked in dismay. "What have I done?"

"Nothing at all, nor I, but it is the future that worries me," the Elvenking explained his words.

"I do not understand," Thorin admitted, confused.

"I know," Thranduil replied softly. He looked admiring at the dwarven prince and saw the change that had been going on with him since they parted. "I see you have become a man." The Elvenking gently took one of the braids next to Thorin's face and slid it between his thumb and forefinger.

Although Thranduil had only touched his hair, the young dwarf nevertheless felt a pleasant shudder. "Do you like it?" He asked uneasily.

"Would that be of any concern?" Returned the Elvenking with a meaningful side-glance.

"Yes, it is," Thorin emphasized, trying to catch Thranduil's gaze.

"Then be assured that I like your sight," Thranduil replied before extending his hand again and running his fingertips over the thick beard that covered the dwarf's chin and cheeks. His eyes mirrored desire and despair in equal measure until he could no longer bear it and closed his eyes. "By the Valar, I like you, I can not help it."

Thorin shuddered again, covering the elf's hand with his in an awkward gesture, until Thranduil's face finally relaxed. Although the elf's fingers were strong, they did feel small in the dwarf's huge hand. It was a nice feeling and for a moment Thorin desired to feel Thranduil's hands forever in his own, so the question he now had to ask hurt him even more. "When will you continue your journey?"

"Soon," confessed the Elvenking, removing his hand from the dwarf. "The ride was long and my soldiers yearn for their families."

"I do not want to part from you again," Thorin confessed.

Thranduil smiled sadly. "It would be better if you forgot me. We live in different worlds, Thorin. Even if we had all time on earth, nothing would change that fact. "

"How could I forget you, when my heart longs for you every moment of its existence?" Thorin opened himself to the Elven king.

"Do not say that," Thranduil said. "You are young and you should look for a dwarven maiden who gives you children and can live with you in Erebor."

"But I do not want a dwarven maiden!" Thorin shouted. "I want you." 

Regretfully, the Elvenking shook his head. "As much as I wish I could give you another answer, but that's impossible."

"If Mahal is with me, I will make it possible," Thorin stubbornly replied. "At least tell me a day when I can see you again."

"Please Thorin, let off these thoughts before reason leaves me as well as you." Thranduil pleaded with his words as his eyes did.

"If you do not want to tell me a day, I'll travel all the way to Greenwood and stay outside of the palace until I can see you, Mahal, be my witness." Determinately, Thorin clenched his fists.

"All right." Thranduil sighed obediently. "From now on, the midsummer day should be ours. In the south, just before the river Celduin flows into the Long Lake, there is a clearing on the edge of the Greenwood Forest. There we will to meet in a year, when the sun is in the zenith, if the Valar approve it. "

Although the thought of another year without the Elvenking hurt Thorin, it was more than he had dared to hope for after this conversation, so he agreed to the proposal. "So be it."

Thranduil confirmed their pact with a nod. "Then let us return to my camp. The sun is already low and it is still a long way to my palace. "

As silently as they had left, they now went back to the other elves. As soon as they reached them, Thranduil signaled the men to leave, packing their belongings and preparing themselves for the rest of the journey. In the tone of a man accustomed to giving orders, the Elvenking spoke to one of his guards who had just brought his horse while Thorin took the opportunity to take his bag, which was still under the maple tree. He was just about to put the carved animals in to bring them to one of the dwarven children who always surrounded him when he returned from his trips into the vicinity of the Erebor, when Thranduil reached out his hand for the little figures.

"Out of the ordinary. A true work of art, "the Elvenking expressed his admiration by running his fingers over the antlers of the carved deer. "You have many hidden talents indeed, Thorin, prince under the mountain."

"I'll give it to you," Thorin replied with a sudden impulse. "As a reminder until our next meeting."

In a gesture that indicated he appreciated the gift, Thranduil inclined his head, then let the figure disappear in his horse's saddlebag. "Thank you, Thorin, even if this really does not need any remider. Good bye. "With that, Thranduil stepped into the stirrup and elegantly heaved himself onto the horse's back. As if they were just waiting for this sign, the other elves did the same, so that Thorin saw himself surrounded by the bodies of the horses.

"Namárie," Thorin replied the farewell in Sindarin and brought his right hand to his heart. With a look at Thorin, the Elvenking repeated the gesture, then the group began to move. The horses grazed Thorin's shoulders and the sounds of the animals, and the clank of armor was in the air as the elves moved away. For the dwarf it felt, as if a big hole was torn in his heart when he saw them leave. He could still make out Thranduil's fair hair between his warriors, and Thorin desperately wished that the Elvenking would turn back once more, but Thranduil rode steadfastly his way, without even glancing at the dwarf.

Finally, when the elves were no longer visible among the trees, Thorin sighed. He would have to wait another year before he could see Thranduil again. Involuntarily, his hand reached the spot where the Elvenking had touched his face and without being aware of it, a smile appeared on his lips. Thranduil liked his appearance, and despite his doubts, he had enjoyed to touch him, Thorin had seen it in his eyes. His heart was still beating faster when he thought of it and his skin tingled with the memory.

Lost in thought, his gaze swept across the floor as he saw something glow in the setting sun, on the spot where Thranduil had climbed onto his horse. Thorin curiously went to his knees to take a closer look at the object. It was a silver clasp, just as the elves used to close their cloaks. Blessedly Thorin's fingers groped over the finely crafted trinket. He had not dared to ask the Elvenking for something personal, but now he had something he could see and touch to keep the memory of Thranduil alive until he returned again. Along with the leftover wooden animals, Thorin stashed the clip in his pouch before making his way back to Erebor. 

 

Tbc ...


	4. Chapter 4

Once upon a time

Chapter 4

Who can say where the road goes,  
Where the day flows?   
Only time.  
And who can say if your love grows,  
As your heart chose?  
Only time

 

(Enya, Only time)

 

Mist lay over the treetops as Thranduil stepped out onto the balcony of his palace. The sun was already visible behind the gray veils, and the last night birds hurried back to their hiding places, while the Greenwood Forest was preparing for a new day of eternal spring. The Elvenking loved those hours between the night and the next day. They were wonderfully quiet and nevertheless not dark, giving him the space he needed to think.

The first days back in Lasgalen, his hours had been busy with talks. His advisors, who under Legolas' watchful eyes had ruled the affairs of his kingdom in his absence, had to give a report of the events. There had been several fierce battles with orcs that had crossed the borders of the forest, and even the cursed spiders that had settled in the south had become a serious problem. In addition, half a dozen Elves had left the realm to set out to the Gray Harbors. Their loss hurt Thranduil, because they had been good people and the gap they left would be hard to fill. 

But despite all the bad news, the reunion with Legolas had warmed his heart. Although he was still young, his son was considerate and intelligent, qualities he had clearly inherited from his mother. In Legolas age, Thranduil had only had celebrations and fighting in mind, and it stayed like this until Oropher's death that had made him the man he was today, and he tried to prepare Legolas better for his fate as future ruler than his father had done with him. So many nights they had sat together, ate, drunk, and talked until dawn, and though Thranduil tried to hide it, Legolas had noticed the change his father had gone through since leaving for Rhûn. 

"What happened on the Midsummer Feast?" He asked abruptly during one of their conversations.

"Nothing has happened," Thranduil retorted, before bringing his goblet to his lips and taking another sip of wine.

"I can see it in your face, in your eyes, Adar," Legolas replied reproachfully. "Something has happened. Something that has shaken your heart. "

For a long time Thranduil said nothing and avoided his son's gaze, keeping his eyes on the wine in his goblet, then sighed silently. "I had a conversation with Galadriel," the Elvenking finally confessed. "She advised me to choose a new mate."

Now Legolas was silent. For a long time they had not talked about his mother, it was a difficult topic for both of them. The Prince had been very young when his mother died, so that he had no memory of her, and their mention alone aroused so much pain in Thranduil that they only pronounced their name at the festivals dedicated to the dead. "I think she's right," Legolas finally replied. His father lifted his eyes in surprise. "In your absence I have experienced how difficult the burden of ruling a kingdom can be. I know you're strong, Adar, but without someone at your side sharing that burden with you, it'll eventually break you. "

It was rare for Thranduil to be surprised, but at that moment he looked at his son as if he had never seen him before. He had expected opposition from Legolas, or at least doubtful words, but his son was wiser than Thranduil ever thought it possible. "I do not know if I could bear losing another person the way I lost your mother," he confessed after another moment of silence. 

"If we always think of the end, there will never be a beginning," Legolas pointed out. "Only the Valar know what the future holds, Adar, and it is not our place to question their ways." Overwhelmed by these words, Thranduil put his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed it while looking at Legolas in awe. Words could not express how proud he was of him at that moment. Still, he would not tell Legolas about the encounter that his heart was still dealing with, at least not yet. Not as long as he was not sure where the whole thing was going to lead.

In fact, Thranduil began to wonder if it was a folly of the age he had committed, or if the Valar enjoyed playing with him. He could not explain otherwise why, despite all doubts, he had chosen the way past the Erebor. Against better knowledge he had wanted to see Thorin again, but even after this fatal mistake fate could have been averted as he had found the dwarf asleep, but under a pretext Thranduil had stopped his men to take a break and instructed them, to treat Thorin with respect. Only his status as their king kept the men from questioning his command, but it was likely that they thought he was completely out of his mind.

Eru and Aule, what was it that tied him to this dwarf? As soon as he had met Thorin's gaze again, he was completly lost. Never in his long life had the Elvenking become attracted to a dwarf, but Thorin was special. In the decade of his absence, he had indeed become a man and his attraction to Thranduil was so strong that the Elvenking could not help but touch him, which was all the more surprising because it was not in the nature of the Elves to express affection for another being so quickly physically. Yet Thranduil had been unable to resist Thorin's braid and his beard. Unlike Elven hair, which was as soft as spun silk, the dwarf's hair had been wiry and thick and his hand ... callous, rough and huge in comparison with his hands and yet Thranduil had enjoyed feeling Thorin's fingers on his own.

Lost in thought Thranduil stepped to the railing of the balcony and watched as the sun gradually dispelled the fog. Since his coronation, his kingdom had always had priority. Even his own son had had to back down more than once, because there were urgent matters that would not allow any delay, and now he was ready to risk the hard-won peace, the fruits his people enjoyed, because of a dwarf?

"My Lord Thranduil." Galion stood at an appropriate distance, his head respectfully inclined as he waited for a sign from his king. The dark-haired Eldar was the only one who dared to enter the King's private chambers without being summoned. For thousands of years, he was one of Thranduil's closest confidants, his most honest adviser daring to bluntly tell him the truth and one of the few he would call a friend. For that reason, he had not taken him to the feast of Rhûn, though he had missed him almost as painfully as his son, but Legolas had been more dependent on Galion's advice than Thranduil on his presence on the journey. If he was honest with himself, Thranduil was not surprised that Galion went to see him, on the contrary, he wondered why he had hesitated so long.

"Come closer," Thranduil instructed the Eldar without turning around and a moment later, Galion stood by his side.

"You did not sleep again," the dark-haired man said with a sidelong glance at his king. It was a statement, yet there was a slight reproach in the words. Here in his private chambers, the Elvenking did not consider it necessary to hide the shadows on his face with a spell. Only here could he strip off the mask of strength and power and just be himself.

"It's the restlessness that keeps me away from my bed," Thranduil said, continuing to keep his eyes on the forest. "I'm afraid the night is not holding any peace for me right now."

"The men are talking, but I think you know that," Galion answered.

Thranduil's mouth rippled at the words. "It would be more surprising if they did not."

"So it's true then."

Amused, the Elvenking raised his eyebrows. "That depends on what they are talking about."

"That a dwarf attracted your attention ...", Galion began his report, his face narrowing slightly at the mention of Thorin.

"I think that was obvious," Thranduil countered.

"... and that this dwarf is the grandson of the King under the mountain," the dark-haired Eldar continued.

The Elvenking nodded. "His name is Thorin and he is Thrór's grandson.”

Galion straightened. "I think, I do not have to remind you what happens when the dwarfs hear about it?"

"You worry too much, Galion," Thranduil replied slightly. "It is nothing more than a harmless flirtation, a love game to pass the time. The dwarf is little more than a boy. "

"Thranduil, I know it's not my place to question your word, but I may know you better than any other Eldar in your realm. Please pay attention to my advice and stop fooling yourself. Think about your feelings for the dwarf. For the sake of Lasgalen and for the sake of your own heart. "With that, Galion bowed and withdrew respectfully. Involuntarily, Thranduil's fingers closed tightly around the railing. He knew that Galion was right, that he was putting them all in jeopardy if he continued with his activities and yet Thranduil knew as well that he could not help himself. That he would not bear to reject Thorin's advances. That he already counted the days until their reunion. That he was ready to take any risk. 

XXXXXX

Contrary to the armory, where sheer strength was in demand, the silversmith was a place of skill and dexterity. In spite of their rough hands, the dwarfs, like no other people, knew how to make jewels that sought their equal in the world. Jewelry made by dwarven hand, were in high demand everywhere in Middle-earth. The smiths were able to afford high prices for their work and some were commissioned for years. Although Thorin preferred carving to wood rather than making rings and chains, he now sat here almost every day working under the watchful eye of the silversmith master.

The thought had come to him a few weeks ago, when Frerin and their father had set off to the Iron Hills to discuss a possible wedding of Thorin's brother with one of their cousins. The two princes under the mountain were now of marriageable age for dwarven standards, and when it came to Thrór, Frerin and his brother would marry princesses from other wealthy dwarf tribes to consolidate a lasting trade relationship and reunite the empires in the future. Thanks Mahal that there had been no concrete plans for Thorin's wedding, but if Frerin had been promised to a girl, it would not be long before his father and grandfather chose a suitable candidate for Thorin, too. But unlike his brother, the young dwarf did not intend to bow to the wishes of his family. No, he had his own plans.

"A really nice job." The voice of Balin standing directly behind him startled Thorin out of his thoughts. He had not expected the old dwarf to find him here, but there was hardly a place in Erebor where Balin could not be found. As one of the oldest dwarves in Erebor, many sought his advice and experience, and he was devoted to Thorin from an early age with paternal affection. In fact, he had been more of a father to the young dwarf than Thráin could ever be. Thorin had shed his heart for him when he had sorrow, and he had come to him when he did not know what to do.

"Thanks," Thorin replied, looking critically at his work.

"If my tired eyes do not fool me, it's a bridal gift, is not it?" Curiously, the old dwarf touched the forged metal. "I did not know that Thrór has already picked a bride for you."

"That's because he didn't," Thorin replied, without looking up from his work.

Balin let out an audible breath. "I was afraid of something like that. My boy, I hope you know what you are doing. "

"I trust Mahal's guiding hand," Thorin replied cryptically.

"Thorin, you are still so young, do not commit folly, which you will regret later," Balin appealed to the sanity of the younger one.

But instead of an answer to that Thorin asked: "Have you ever been married, Balin?"

"No, I was not." The old dwarf's face got a sad expression. "When I was young, there was once a girl from Moria, whom I loved very much. I wanted to court her, but it did not happen anymore. A devastating fire in the mines killed not only her, but half the clan. After that, I never found another woman I loved as much as I loved her. "

"Then you understand that I have to act that way, do you Balin?" Urged Thorin. "That I can not just ignore, if Mahal presents me with a love that can only happen once on Arda?"

"I understand that you think so," Balin replied paternally. "But let me tell you, your grandfather's choice does not have to be bad. Maybe it's not a marriage of love that would arise, but not always great feelings endure. "

"You're wrong, Balin," Thorin replied firmly, groping for the elven clasp in his trouser pocket. "In that case, it's different."

In a gentle gesture, Balin patted his protege's neck. "I hope so Thorin. I really do. "

Since his meeting with Thranduil, Thorin kept the clasp like a treasure. He did not dare to leave it in his room, where it could be found by the servants, so he always carried the jewel in the pocket of his trousers. Sometimes Thorin caught himself putting a hand in his pocket and stroking the filigree metal almost tenderly, as if caressing the Elvenking's hand again and not infrequently falling asleep at night with the clasp in his hand. Full of longing, he thought of how Thranduil had touched his beard and he could hardly wait to bring that moment back.

How was he supposed to marry a dwarf when his heart was already taken? The very idea of marrying someone else than Thranduil seemed so absurd that he pushed it far away. But Thorin knew his grandfather would not listen to his arguments. A marriage was less a matter of the heart to him than a good deal. Therefore, there was only one way out for Thorin's dilemma: he would ask Thranduil to court him. In the tradition of the dwarfs, courtship was a promise of marriage and when the Elvenking agreed to the courting, the wedding was virtually sealed.

That's why Thorin worked on a gift for Thranduil whenever possible, he wanted to put all his feelings in his work, and he counted the days until he could finally hand it over to him.

 

Tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

Once upon a time

Chapter 5

If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

(Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars)

 

The clearing on the edge of the Celduin, just before the river flowed into the Long Lake, lay in bright sunlight when Thorin reached it. He had had to leave Erebor before dawn to be in time at the meeting place, but he had gladly accepted the effort. Gently the river lapped past him as if it could not harm anybody, but Thorin knew of the waterfalls and the dangerous rapids upstream in the Greenwood forest, which made the Celduin a treacherous river. The clear water teemed with fish, so Thorin regretted not bringing a fishing rod. Although Lake Town was less than a day's ride from the Erebor, fresh fish in the kingdom under the mountain rarely came to the table, and Thorin demanded to taste the trout and perch, which swarmed innocently in the river.

Because of the walk under the warm sun, his shirt was soaked with sweat, so the dwarf finally pulled it over his head and squatted down on the riverbank to freshen up by the water. Greedfully, Thorin drank from the chilly wet, but when he heard a twig crack behind him, he stood up and hurried around, only to see Thranduil standing in the shadow of the trees. Unlike their first meetings, the Elvenking was dressed in a light tunic over green pants. He had tied the hair back and no jewelry that would reveal his status graced his head or body. Still, the Eldar was as beautiful and majestic to Thorin as if he stood in front of him in full body armor.

"Mae govannen," greeted the dwarf and placed his right hand over his heart.

"Mae govannen," Thranduil replied as he stepped out of the shadows at Thorin.

A moment of embarrassment arose because the dwarf did not know if he dared touch the Eldar, and finally it was Thranduil who first crossed the gap. His gaze curiously brushed the dwarf's unclothed torso, following the wiry beard down his throat, where it entered in a thick jungle of hair that stretched over his chest to the navel and disappeared into a promising trail in Thorin's waistband. Frowning, Thranduil bent down and ran his hand over the curly chest hair, feeling the muscles tense underneath, and realising how Thorin's heart began to beat wildly under his fingertips.

"So similar and yet so strange," the Eldar whispered as if to himself, then smiled at Thorin apologetically. "We elves have no hair on us, except on the head."

As if to prove this claim, Thorin stretched out his hand and ran his fingers gently over the elf's jaw. In fact, Thranduil's skin was completely smooth there, and his throat and cheeks did not show the slightest trace of stubbles. It felt weird and yet beautiful. Brave by the contact, Thorin closed the gap between them, finally leaning forward to press his lips against the Elvenking's. Relieved, he realized that Thranduil did not retreat, but even met him, and when their mouths finally found eachother, he felt the Elvenking's hands resting against his shoulders. Thorin himself had his fingers around Thranduil's face as he kissed him, and it seemed to him that he was absorbing the elf with all his senses at the same time. His skin was like velvet and silk, his body smelled of forest and flowers, and his mouth tasted strangely familiar, yet like nothing Thorin had ever tasted before.

He wanted to immerse himself in him, to sink into him, and it took Thorin all his restraint to keep his temper in check and not completely forget himself. Time and space seemed to have no meaning, only this kiss was important, but eventually Thorin's lungs needed oxygen, so he finally had to break away from him. His head felt strangely light and his cheeks burned as if a sudden fever had taken over him as he gasped breathlessly. A glance at the Elvenking told him that Thranduil seemed calm on the outside, but his eyes shone in the same feverish glow that also raged in Thorin, and his voice sounded strangely thick as he said, "Come, rest with me at the edge of the woods. You must be exhausted after the long march. "

Thorin readily let himself be led to the place where Thranduil had set up his camp. On a wide cloak, which would serve as a blanket for them, bread, fruit and a bottle of wine were spread, his white horse grazed a few meters away. Thranduil settled down elegantly on the cloak, and after a moment's hesitation, Thorin knelt down beside him, then began to pack his provisions from the backpack: dried meat, a few berries, pointed peppers, and a dwarven cake. Without many words, they shared their meal and Thorin watched with satisfaction that the Eldar seemed to like the cake but did not touch the meat.

"We elves do not eat creatures of Arda," the Elvenking explained to Thorin. "We regard the animals as our brothers entrusted to us, and respect and honor them beyond death." Although this attitude struck Thorin strangely, he respected the Eldar's manners, so he left the subject to himself. After the meal, the two men stretched out on the cloak, simply enjoying each other's presence. Although the elves were immune to heat or cold, Thranduil had removed his tunic to match Thorin. Intrigued, the dwarf's rough hand explored the elf's body; brushed the fine curve of his ears down to the sensitive tip, which made Thranduil shudder visibly, before turning to his chest, which was so smooth and white that it looked almost like marble if Thorin had not felt the heart like a fluttering bird pulsing against his fingers. In a gentle gesture, Thranduil put his hand on the dwarf's hand and held it in place while he turned his head and stared intensely at Thorin from his bright eyes.

"What are we doing here?" The Elvenking whispered full of sorrow. "We really must have lost our minds." 

"How can it be madness, what we feel?" Thorin replied gently. "If even the gods will not stop us."

"The gods are playing with us, Melleth," Thranduil replied. "This can not have a future. Your clan will not understand. They will try everything to keep us apart. "

"I know, and that's why I did this." Solemnly, the dwarf took out the bangle he had forged from his backpack and placed it on Thranduil's chest. The jewel shone and sparkled in the sunlight that shone down through the leafs so that the Elvenking's eyes widened in awe as he picked it up and turned it back and forth. The hoop was filigree and strong at the same time, with intricate patterns studded with white stones.

"Is that ...?" Thranduil asked overwhelmed.

Thorin nodded. "Pure starlight. The bangle should be a promise if you accept it. The promise to honor you as long as I live, Mahal be my witness. "

"Thorin .." Thranduil's voice tightened with a sudden surge of pain.

"Allow me to court you," the dwarf cut in, not willing to hear the objection that the Elvenking had on his tongue.

"Thorin, please ..." Thranduil tried again.

"It's the only chance we have," Thorin pleaded. "The only chance to be by your side."

Thranduil tried to appeal to the sanity of the dwarf again. "Thorin, you do not know what you're doing."

"Oh, yes, I know that very well," Thorin replied firmly. "I had a whole year to think about it, so I ask you again, will you allow me to court you?"

"If it were only for myself, there would be only one answer I could give you, but I am responsible for a whole kingdom. I can not expose my men to the danger of war for my own sake. "

"You do not have to. My clan has to accept my courtship, that's what our holy law says."

"And if not, if your grandfather starts a war for our sake?"

"He will not. If he really should be unreasonable, I will find a way, I promise. Nobody will have to suffer for our sake. Please, Amral, do you want to be with me as long as I live? "

A lonely tear ran from Thranduil's corner of his eye as he finally gave up. He simply did not have the strength to fight it any longer. "Yes, the Valar help me, I want that."

Happiness poured through Thorin's veins like warm fire at those words. Until recently, he had feared that the Elvenking would continue to ward off his feelings. "Then accept the gift as my marriage promise. Believe in our future. "

Thranduil knew it was madness. That he probably condemned them both to doom, but if so, they would at least go down together. His fingers trembled slightly as he clamped the hoop on his bare upper arm before saying, "I accept your present, Thorin, prince under the mountain and give you my promise to honor you from now until the day you pass away with respect and love, the Valar be my witness. "

"So be it." Overwhelmed by his feelings, Thorin leaned over the lying elf and kissed him with all the fervor he could muster. He knew that the Elvenking was struggling with the consequences of their decision, but in Thorin's youthful levity, he believed they could overcome all odds together. The first step had been made and Thranduil's approval had relieved him of a great burden. Finally, he could call the elf his own, and though he could not share Thranduil's eternal life, they would have many years together, if Mahl was with them.

Both men were completely exhausted after this emotional outburst, so they lay silently side by side, skin to skin, caressing and kissing each other again and again, until the sun almost completed the daily journey. "I'll have to travel to Erebor before the winter," Thranduil eventually said into the silence. "The battles with the orcs have been piling up for months, and my blacksmiths need iron ore for new arrowheads."

"That's wonderful," Thorin happily replied. "I did not dare hope to see you again so soon."

"Even my heart rejoices at the thought of seeing you soon," confessed the Elvenking. "Still, it would be better if we did not show the nature of our feelings in front of your grandfather and only meet secretly in Erebor. If it comes to a scandal, I want to know you in safety. "

"You worry unnecessarily," the dwarf replied. "No one in my clan would harm me. But what about you?"

"Let that be my concern," Thranduil replied. "I will send a raven to have an audience scheduled. Promise me that our engagement will remain a secret until then. "

"I promise, even though I would like to call it out to the whole world." Drunk with happiness, Thorin kissed his lover's shoulder.

Despite his fears, Thranduil could not help smiling at these words. Thorin's youth and his enthusiasm gave rise to feelings he had long forgotten. "Soon, Melleth," he soothed the lovestuck dwarf. "The day will come when you can tell all on Arda."

"Everyone should know that you are mine," Thorin growled deep in his throat and kissed the elf so hard that his rough beard left marks on Thranduil's face. "Mine, only mine."

With a sigh, Thranduil closed his eyes and surrendered to the maelstrom of emotions Thorin elicited in him. Now was not the time to worry. He could do that on another day. Today he would indulge in what he had refused for so long. At last he no longer felt hollow, but alive, fully and completely. The blood throbbed hot again in his veins and his body vibrated to the tune that Thorin produced in him.

 

Tbc ....


	6. Chapter 6

Once upon a time

Chapter 6

Two worlds collide, rival nations,  
It`s a primative clash  
Venting years of frustrations

(Survivor, Burning heart)

 

The autumn storms came early this year. They fiercely swept across the land, tore the leaves from the trees, blew away the roofs of numerous huts in Dale, and spoke of the upcomming winter, of snow and ice, of wasteland and stagnation. The corridors of the Erebor reached deep into the mountain, protecting the dwarves from the cold, but they had to make some final arrangements before the winter arrived. Supplies for the colony had to be procured, medicinal herbs collected and animals hunted, as well as gaps and holes had to be sealed in the rock to allow the icy winds no access. Although the Greenwood would be spared by winter, now was the last opportunity to travel to the Erebor, before ice and snow made the ride there impossible. The letter, which arrived by raven, had been personally addressed to Thrór, yet the news that an elvish delegation would once again visit the Erebor after such a long time had spread like wildfire around. At the behest of their king, the dwarves decorated the great audience hall and polished their weapons to show the elves their power and wealth.

Despite the persistent storm, Thorin stood on the wall of the fortress hours before the arrival of the elves, defying the wind and peering over to the edge of the forest. Although it had been only a few months since he had seen Thranduil, his heart was pounding in anticipation. Too many nights he had consumed himself after the Elvenking and now the big day had finally come. Thranduil's clasp was back in place in the pocket of Thorin's trousers, and the dwarf squeezed it as he saw the group on the horizon. Another hour passed before Thorin could make out more details. Only then did he recognize the dozen elves in shining armor with the banner of the Woodland Realm riding over the hills, guarding their king in their midst. Unlike the warriors, the Elvenking wore no helmet, so his silver blond hair shone in the wind like spun moonlight, and Thorin could not wait to slide his fingers through the soft strands again. It seemed endless to the dwarven prince until the elves finally reached the bridge in front of the Erebor. The guards at the main gate were wrapped in thick coats as the riders passed them, then vanished from Thorin's view. 

As fast as his legs carried him, the dwarf ran down the stairs until he reached the outer halls, yet he did not arrive until the elves had already handed over their horses to the servants and were led by a warrior into the large audience hall. Like a statue in his magnificent cloak and the crown of the Kingdom under the mountain on his head, Thrór sat on his throne with the incorporated Arkenstone and watched the elves walk in immovably. Thráin to his left and Frerin to his right were also dressed in their most elegant robes and wore their crowns with a pride inherent by the dwarfs. Dís as a woman was not allowed to attend the audience, which is why she had pledged to her brothers that they would later tell her the story in detail.

With tangled hair, red cheeks, and a little out of breath, Thorin reached his family, which earned him a reprimanding look from his father, but that didn't matter to him since he had just taken his place in time before the elves reached the podium on which the royal family awaited them. Unlike his warriors, who wore golden armors with feathered helmets, Thranduil was wrapped in a light robe over which he wore a silver cloak. On his head was now the crown of the Woodland Kingdom, which was decorated according to the season with colorful autumn leaves.

"Welcome, Thranduil, ruler of Lasgalen with your entourage," Thrór greeted the Elvenking, but his tone was cold and hard.

"Greetings, Thrór, ruler of Erebor, King under the mountain. Greetings to all your people under the mountain, "Thranduil replied in a loud, clear voice. His gaze gradually grazed the members of the royal family, but when his eyes reached Thorin, he quickly looked back to the king, and the dwarven prince became aware that the Elvenking was wearing the bangle that Thorin had given him over his coat. This realization made Thorin's heart swell with happiness, as it meant that although they had agreed to keep their relationship secret from the dwarves, Thranduil showed it nonetheless.

The politeness would have commanded to offer the guests food and drink after the long journey, as well as a break in the guest quarters, but Thrór did nothing like that, but continued unswervingly. "For a long time you have stayed away from Erebor, what gives us the honor of a visit today?"

When Thranduil was annoyed by the lack of hospitality, he did not show it, instead his face remained neutral as he replied, "My blacksmiths need the iron from you as our weapons were truncated in the on-going battle with the creatures of Mordor. "

"Half of Middle Earth sends petitioners to buy iron from the Erebor," Thrór responded defensively.

"That may be, but did not we elves always pay well for your goods?" Asked Thranduil with raised eyebrows.

The dwarven king made a dismissive gesture. "The prices have risen since you last visited us."

"I'm sure we'll find a solution for that," the Elvenking replied.

"I hardly believe it," Thrór replied icily. "In the face of demand, we reserve ourselves with whom we want to do business. And with greedy elves who believe they can trick us by their magic, we trade no more. "

"Grandfather!" Thorin exclaimed in horror at Thrors' impudence.

"Quiet, Thorin," Thráin hissed at his son, and Frerin looked bewildered at his brother, too, who dared to speak against the king under the eyes of all.

As if he had not heard the outburst of his lover, Thranduil again addressed the word to Thrór. Though his features remained blank, his eyes seemed to be flashing as he returned, "Of course you are free to refuse to trade with us, but I urge you to reconsider this decision. Only the Valar know what the future holds and the day may come when it's you who depend on us. "

"Is that a threat, filthy elven dog?" Thrór rumbled as he rose from his throne. Terrified, Thorin realized that the dwarven warriors guarding the walls of the room had their hands on the hilt of their swords.

"No," Thranduil replied coldly. "It's a promise. From today to the last day, there will no longer be any relationship between the elves of Lasgalen and the dwarves of Erebor, even if you regret your mistake. I swear this, may the Valar be my witness. "

"Get out of my palace! Leave my kingdom immediately, and if ever again an Eldar sets foot on the ground of the Erebor, I swear I will put your forest to ashes! "Thrór roared in rage.

In a fraction of a second, the elves drew their weapons and formed themselves around their king as he turned and, under the hostile eyes of the dwarfs, left without another word the audience hall.

For a moment, Thorin was frozen in shock. Just a moment ago he had been full of joy, and now it was like if someone had pulled away the ground from under his feet. In panic, he realized that the elves were heading for the exit, then he ran. As if through a fog, he heard his father calling his name, but in the turmoil that followed the audience, Thorin managed to slip through the crowd of dwarves to the door into the outer halls. He reached the elves just in time before they could cross the halls that led to the main gate, where they would climb on the horses provided. The warriors still surrounded their king to protect him from potential danger, so Thorin could not easily reach him.

"Thranduil!" He shouted in his distress. "Please wait!"

"Go, Thorin, I command you, stay away from me," he heard Thranduil say, but he could not see him through the warriors.

"Not until I talk to you face to face," the dwarven prince insisted stubbornly.

Without stopping, the Elvenking gave his warriors a sign to let the dwarf through. "Why can you never do what I ask you to?" Thranduil asked, and Thorin could see the tension that seethed beneath the beautiful face.

"Because I'm afraid of losing you if I'm not talking to you now," Thorin answered honestly.

It was visible that Thranduil was trying to fight his anger down. "I'm sorry, Melleth," he said, trying to block out the chaos around them, concentrating solely on Thorin. "Only the Valar know how much I longed for your sight, but I wish our reunion had been under a better star."

"It's not your fault," the dwarf replied, struggling to keep up with the tall elven warriors. "My grandfather is a fool who thinks only of his own advantage."

"If he does not come to his senses, Thrór will bring about the fall of Erebor, that much is certain. I know it's hard, but under these circumstances, it would be better if you take your gift back." Thranduil started to release the bangle from his upper arm, but Thorin held him back by the elbow. "No, I will not take it. I have made a promise to you and I will keep to that promise, Mahal is my witness. "

Determined, Thranduil shook his head. "I can not allow that. If Thrór finds out the truth, you could lose everything, Thorin. "

"I do not care," replied the dwarf with fervor. "I can no longer bow to the will of an insane despot, but must follow what my heart speaks. And my heart does not want to part from you. Take me with you."

For a moment, the Elvenking's features softened. "I can not do that. Not yet, Melleth. It is too dangerous. Dark forces are gathering in the north and it is quite possible that my people will have to go to war. But I promise if the Valar are with me that I will come and get you as soon as I can, if that's what you want. Until then stay with your clan until the danger is over. "

"How can I wait here if you put yourself in danger?" Thorin demanded. "When it comes to a war, I want to be by your side."

"No," Thranduil replied firmly. "Your time has not come yet. This is not my first war and probably not the last, but I can not fight and at the same time ensure your protection. If the Valar approve, I'll send you a raven once the battle is over and we are victorious. "During their conversation, the group had reached the horses held by the servants.

Carefully, the Elvenking removed the crown from his hair and wraped it into a cloth before tucking it into his horse's saddlebag. "Thranduil ...", the dwarf lamented unhappily, but the Elvenking put a finger to his lips resolutely.

"My heart will stay here with you," he murmured, before leaning down and kissing Thorin's forehead. Then he turned away and climbed on the nervously tripping white horse. One after the other, the elves did the same until they had surrounded their king again with their horses.

"Namárie," Thorin faltered as he fought the emotions that tightened his chest.

"Namárie," said Thranduil, and the regret was obvious in the one word, then he pressed his heels lightly into the flanks of his horse and the group began to move. Thorin stayed behind and watched them galloping out the gate, his hand closed so tightly around the clasp in his pocket that the needle dug deep into his flesh. But Thorin felt no pain in his fingers, as the pain in his heart went beyond it a thousand times.

 

Tbc ...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all my readers!

Once upon a time

 

Chapter 7

Riders on the storm  
Riders on the storm  
Into this house we`re born  
Into this world we`re thrown  
Like a dog without a bone  
An actor out on loan  
Riders on the storm

(The Doors, Riders on the storm)

 

Again and again Thranduil pushed his heels into the horse's flanks. They had long since left the open landscape and crossed the borders of Lasgalen, but nonetheless the Elvenking ruthlessly drove the white horse to hurry. His hands holding the reins were now numb and stiff, and every muscle in his body screamed with effort, but Thranduil gladly welcomed the pain. Although the horses of his warriors were as noble creatures as his, they could not keep up with him. Thranduil chased through the trees like a shadow, risking the stallion to stumble over a root or catch his hoof in a hole in the ground. He couldn't do otherwise. The anger seething deep inside clawed at his heart with such force that he had to channel it into something so as not to lose his mind.

It had cost Thranduil all his strength to not let Thorin realize how much the argument with his grandfather had angered him. If it had not been for his lover, Thranduil would have liked to drive a sword into the deluded skull of the old dwarf for the insult. But even if his pride was badly hit, Thranduil would not be the first to take up arms. No, if he attacked the dwarves, Thrór would be the last to suffer, more likely that Thorin was forced to fight in the front line and by the Valar, for nothing in the world would the Elvenking want to face the dwarven prince on the battlefield.

When the palace of the Woodland Realm finally appeared in front of him, Thranduil could feel the relief of his horse, but he felt nothing of the sort. The anger still raged inside him and screamed for battle and killing. As soon as the horse had come to a halt, the Elvenking jumped out of the saddle. Despite the late hour, a servant was at his side to take care of the animal. That was also urgently necessary, because the horse was completely exhausted. Foam stood in front of its mouth, it shivered and its body was covered in sweat, so impetuously had Thranduil pushed it on.

Without addressing a word to his servants who had come to meet his command, the Elvenking swept past them into the interior of the palace. "Adar, we did not expect you back so soon. What happened? "Apparently the news of his arrival had already reached Legolas' ear, for his son was now passing through the hall with a worried frown on his face.

"I was a fool to believe that you can still trade with Thrór. The peace with the dwarves of the Erebor is canceled, "Thranduil informed his son curtly. "We will have to get the iron ore from another mine."

"I'll send negotiators to the Iron Hills and Moria right in the morning," Legolas replied. "In the hope that Thrór has not already incited them against us."

His father acknowledged the proposal with a nod. "Do that and call the men together. We will ride north this night and destroy the danger from there once and for all. "

Surprised by this revelation, the elven prince shook his head. "No, Adar. I understand you're upset, but you've been in the saddle since morning. Sure, the threat is serious, but nothing is worth to hurry like this. "

"I do not expect you to understand, Legolas, but heading for a fight is better for me than a night camp right now. I would not find peace anyway. "Thranduil knew it looked like an escape and the Valar, it was one, but no one would dare to say so openly, they rode into war and not for the sake of running away. Still, the Elvenking could hardly put enough distance between himself and the Erebor at the moment, and perhaps his journey north would help him clear his head and let him make a decision about Thorin's whereabouts. Although he had unhesitatingly agreed to the dwarf's request to join him in Greenwood, but if he was honest, he had done so following an impulse and only under the pressure of events. So far he had not found the courage to explain his relationship with Thorin to his son. Although Legolas had seen the bangle, he had not recognized its meaning. If he really wanted to get Thorin here, he needed to tell him the truth, but now was neither the time nor the place.

"And if the dwarfs rise against us in your absence?" Legolas brought his father from his thoughts.

"Even if Thrór's mind is neglected, the dwarves will stay away from the forest," Thranduil soothed his son. "He may be a despot, but he is not a perfect fool."

"Despite Adar, make no hasty decisions," the elven prince implored his father. "Act wisely like you taught me."

In a fatherly gesture, Thranduil put his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed it. "There are times of waiting and times of action, Legolas, and even if I reluctantly burden you with the burden of reign, I have no other choice."

 

XXXXXX

 

"I tried everything, but he does not want to be talked to. You'll have to answer to the council tomorrow. "Devastated, Balin sat down next to Thorin on his bed. Immediately after the elves left Erebor, he was arrested by the royal guards and escorted into his room like he was a thief or worse. At first he was confused by the humiliating treatment, but then realized that enough dwarfs had seen his parting from Thranduil to come to their own conclusions about his behavior and inform the king. Since then, a day had passed when he was only allowed to leave the room when he had to relieve himself. Neither his father nor anyone else of the family had visited him at this time, only Balin and Thorin's closest friend Dwalin had come to him to bring him food and assure him of their support, yet Thorin felt no regret about his actions, like this maybe was expected of him. On the contrary, when he would have to stand in front of the king, he would hold his head high.

"Let it be, Balin," Thorin replied. "My grandfather has long ago past the point of advice."

"Then it's important that you show your remorse," Balin suggested. "You must say the Elvenking has bewitched you."

Thorin shook his head vehemently. "No, I can not do that and I will not do it. I will stand by what I feel, Balin, with all the consequences that will follow. "

Sadly, Balin sighed. "I fear for you, boy. Your obsession with this elf will be your downfall, Thorin. "

Longingly, Thorin looked over to the small window that provided the chamber in the mountain with light and air. "Maybe that's how it is, but maybe it's also a liberation from this life in chains for me."

Balin weighed his head carefully. He knew Thorin from his first day on earth, knew his stubbornness and his urge for freedom, and he loved the prince like a son. For that very reason he did everything in his power to stop him. "I do not want to say that I always approve what your grandfather does, but he is our king, Thorin, and as such you are committed to his fidelity."

"I will not be loyal to anyone who does not respect me, but only uses me for his purposes. I'd rather leave, "Thorin replied passionately.

"No, Thorin, you can not," Balin said, startled. "A dwarf belongs to his clan."

"Not if the clan forbids me to be who I am and to love whoever I want." Determined, Thorin's fingers grabbed the clasp in his pocket and squeezed it tight. "Then I'm better off without my clan."

Desperately, Balin ran his fingers through his thick white hair. Why were the men from Durin's house so stubborn? As he knew Thrór, he would show no mercy on his grandson and if Thorin did not give in, there would be a catastrophe. "Mahal help us," he murmured sadly as he thought of tomorrow.

XXXXXX

Silently, Thorin entered the hall with the men who had brought him here. Despite his age and wisdom, Balin was not a member of the council, so he had to wait outside the door. Since this was not an offical meeting, Thrór had renounced the royal robes and wore only the crown on his head. Thráin, who sat by his side as so often, shook his head at the sight of his second-born, as if he could not understand the shame Thorin had brought upon them. Frerin, meanwhile, who was also a member of the council, dared not to look his brother in the eye, but stared instead at the polished table top.

"Thorin," his grandfather began after the dwarven prince had stopped just in front of the council table, "we came together today to judge your misconduct by conspiring with the elves behind our backs. What do you have to say for your defense? "

"If it is a conspiracy to be in love with a member of the Eldar, then I declare myself guilty," Thorin admitted fearlessly. "But I swear by Mahal not to divulge the dwarves' secrets or harm my people otherwise."

"What does that mean?" Thráin snapped. "Explain yourself, son!"

“Mahal made it so that I fell in love with the ruler of Lasgalen long ago and before five months I asked for his permission to woo him and he accepted it. "

"You are lying!" Thrór shouted. "No dwarf would ever court an elf."

"Did not you see the bangle he was wearing on his left arm?" Thorin asked triumphantly. "It was made by my hands in the Erebor, the silversmith is my witness."

"How could you?" Hissed Thráin. "Do you know what shame you bring on us? My flesh and blood connected with an elf. "

"It does not matter that he accepted your gift," Thrór replied icily. "Courting an elf is not worth anything in Mahal's eyes."

"You're wrong, grandfather," Thorin said quietly, "I've been searching the ancient books for months, and nowhere is a word to be found of the spouse being a dwarf."

"I am the king here and I am making the laws," growled Thrór irritably. "If the Elvenking thinks he'll get a foot inside the Erebor by marrying my grandson, he's wrong. I'd rather kill you both before I let you do this. "

"Do not hold back," Thorin replied, spreading his arms. "Because I'd rather die than being further exposed to your despotism.”

With a speed one would not have expected from a dwarf, Thráin jumped up from the chair and hit his son so hard in the face that Thorin's head was flung aside. "How dare you speak to your king like that? If you were a real son of Durin, you would know that the clan always comes first before your own interests. "

Thorin's cheek burned from the actual and verbal slap that he had received, yet he did not move an inch away from his father. His whole body shook with anger as he finally put an end to this farce. "Then I renounce my clan if he can not accept who my heart beats for. As of today, I am no longer a son of Durin. I have no king, no grandfather and no father. As of today, I am Thorin, son of no one."

"Thorin! No! "The exclamation of horror was the first time Frerin had spoken, but it was too late.

"Then let it be this way." Thrór's face was a mask of anger as he signaled to the council secretary to put his will on paper. "I, Thrór, ruler of the kingdom of Erebor, king under the mountain, determine that from now on Thorin is no longer a member of the clan under the mountain. I banish him from my kingdom. At sunrise, he will leave the Erebor with no more belongings than he can carry, and if he ever sets foot on this land again, he will be imprisoned for the rest of his life. That's my verdict. Guards, take him away. "

Horror about this hard judgment was reflected in the faces of Frerin, Thráin, and most members of the council. It had been assumed that Thorin would be mildly punished as a member of the royal family, but when the king gloomily looked around, no one dared to argue. Silently, the guards kicked Thorin's side and grabbed him by the shoulders, but the young dwarf broke free. "You do not need to lead me. I know the way. "Without another word he turned and went escorted by the two guards back to his chambers.

XXXXXX

"I do not want you to go." Thorin sat shoulder to shoulder with his sister on the furs spread out in front of the fireplace in his room. As soon as she had heard about her brother's exile, Dís had stormed into Thorin's chamber, refusing to leave again despite the vigilant protest of the guards. Like all Durins, the young female dwarf had an immense stubborn head and since the men did not see any danger in the girl, they finally let her go. The big dark eyes Dís had inherited from her mother were in tears when she looked at her brother. Thorin, too, was not comfortable with leaving his siblings in Erebor, but it was not as if he had a choice.

"Believe me, it's better that way," he replied as lightly as possible. "It's better for everyone if I leave Erebor. Actually, I did never belong here. "

"That's not true, Thorin, we had happy times too when we were kids. And what will become of me? You know how grandfather can be and that father will never stand against him. "It was true that Thráin had no back bone when it came to defending his opinion against Thrór. From the beginning he had let his father rule over the children, and unlike other dwarven grandparents who spoiled their grandchildren, Thrór had only been interested in educating them to become "real" Durins. They learned how to behave, what to do and what not, but love had nothing to do with it. Rarely did Thrór spoke to them kindly and even Thráin became more and more alienated from his children the older they got. It got even worse when their mother died shortly after Dís birth of a short and serious illness. From that moment on, the three siblings had only each other and maybe it was due to this fact, which welded them together, although they were very different. While Thorin had always been a restless free spirit, Dís got more after her mother in her calm and friendly manner. Frerin, on the other hand, was fearful and avaricious, just like his father, so Thorin silently feared he would end up under Thrór's control like Thráin did ,

"If all goes well, you will not be here much longer," Thorin tried to cheer up his sister. After the events of the last days, it seemed like an eternity, but in fact it had only been before a month, when Dís had confided to him that one of the silversmiths was courting her and wanted to ask for her hand with her consent. His family owned a property in Ered Luin where he wanted to move with her when the marriage was sealed.

"Grandfather has not consented yet," Dís responded tacitly.

"Why should not he?" Thorin replied. "Víli is a respected man of a good, wealthy family. He will certainly make you happy. "

"And you, Thorin?" Dís asked. "I mean are you happy? Is your Elvenking really worth it? "

Thoughtfully Thorin looked into the void. "It's hard to find a clear answer right now. My heart is bleeding because I have to leave you, but it rejoices because I can be by his side. "

"If I could at least write to you," Dís began to complain again, "but I do not even know where to address the letter."

"I'll send you a raven with an oak leaf once I've reached Thranduil's palace," Thorin replied confidently. "Then you know that I have arrived and that I am well."

Skeptically, Dís cocked her head. "Do you even know where the palace is?"

"No, but I'm not worried about that. I'll find him, rely on it. "Determined, the dwarf put a compass in his trouser's pocket to the Elvenking's clasp and strapped the leather shell of his carving knife to his lower leg.

"May Mahal watch over you, Thorin. I really hope you are doing the right thing. "

XXXXXX

Thorin had been sitting in his room with his sister in front of the warming fire until late at night, than tiredness finally overcame Dís and her head sank against his shoulder. Thorin gently laid the young dwarven girl on the furs in front of the fireplace, but he himself could not sleep. Too much had happened in the past few days. When it was well past midnight, it finally knocked softly on the door of his chamber. "Thorin," he heard Frerin's whispered voice through the wood. "Are you still awake?"

Without hesitation, the addressed dwarf came to the door and let his brother in. Frerin's eyes spoke of shame and grief as he tiptoed through the open gap while the guards snored outside in the hallway. "I'm so sorry," Frerin began as soon as Thorin closed the door again. "I wanted to say something, I really wanted, but then my courage left me."

In a comforting gesture, Thorin grabbed his brother by the shoulder. "It is fine. It was not your fault."

"Yes, it was," Frerin responded sadly. "If we had not met the elves at that time, or if I had held you back, then you would never have encountered this Thranduil."

Thorin shook his head. "Frerin, it was Mahal's will that we met and I am grateful for that. Since I know Thranduil, I've just learned to see for real. Through him, I experience a whole new world. "

"But because of him, you lose your home," the elder said.

"The Erebor has long stopped being my home," Thorin objected. "It's my prison and if it had not been for you and Dís, I would have run away long ago."

Unhappy, Frerin's shoulders slumped forward. "And now you go and leave me alone with this burden."

"Is not your bride coming to Erebor in spring?" The younger dwarf asked. "You'll get through the time until then, and once Berís is here, you'll have no opportunity to think of me."

"I'll always think of you, Thorin," Frerin replied gravely.

"And I will think of you too, Frerin." For a brief moment, the brothers lay in each other's arms, then Thorin broke away from his brother. "I know, I want a lot, but may I ask you for a favor?"

Excited, Frerin raised his eyebrows. "Tell me, what can I do?"

"You have to send a raven with a letter to the Greenwood for me, telling the elves that I'm on my way to them," Thorin said. "Will you do that for me, Frerin?"

The older one bit nervously on his lower lip, then nodded hesitantly. "I'll try. You know that the falconers keep the birds under lock and key. "

"You'll find a way," Thorin encouraged his brother. "Now go, Frerin."

Thorin was about to reopen the door of his room when his brother held him back. "One more thing, I was in the armory earlier and brought you this. Thrór decreed that you are not allowed to carry a sword with you, but he did not speak of a dagger. "

The weapon Frerin held out to him was unadorned, the blade lightly tarnished and with a simple grip, but Thorin knew it could make the difference between life and death on his journey. "Thank you, Frerin. I'll use it well. "In a fraternal gesture, Thorin put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Promise me to take care of you, yes Thorin?" Despite the faint firelight, Thorin was sure to see tears glisten in his brother's eyes. From an early age Frerin had always taken care of him, but where Thorin would go now, his big brother could not accompany him. From now on, he would be on his own.

"I promise you," said Thorin solemnly. "Believe me, I do not wish to move into the halls of our forefathers in a long time."

Frerin nodded weakly. "If I'm not allowed to talk to you tomorrow, I'll say goodbye to you now, Thorin."

"Farewell, Frerin." Thorin's throat felt strangely thight at these words. "And take care of yourself and our sister."

 

Tbc ...


	8. Chapter 8

Once upon a time

Chapter 8

On and on the rain will fall  
Like tears from a star  
Like tears from a star  
On and on the rain will say  
How fragile we are  
How fragile we are

(Sting, Fragile)

Wistfully, Thorin let his eyes wander over his chamber. Contrary to what he had said to Balin, his heart was bleeding at the thought that he was here for the last time. It was not the furniture he would miss, but the whole Erebor. Here had he grown up, had learned everything he knew today and here they had buried his mother after her death. Even though he had said that he did not feel like the kingdom under the mountain was his home, it was not really true. It was his father and grandfather who had made him feel more and more like a stranger in Erebor, but he would terribly miss his brother and sister, the other dwarfs, and his home in and of itself. Especially since he did not know how the elves would handle his arrival. That Thranduil loved him and would do anything to make Thorin feel at home in Greenwood, the dwarven prince had no doubt, but whether the other elves would accept him was a completely different question. Nevertheless, Thorin would not back down, he had already ventured too far.

Even without an hourglass Thorin knew that it was time, because through the small window high up on the wall, the first rays of sunlight were already falling into the room. Long after midnight his sister had staggered to the door and into her own room only half awake. As far as Thorin was concerned, it was better that way. A tearful farewell with Dís would make it even harder for him to go. If Frerin feld the same way, he would not see him either. Everything was said between them and Thorin's departure would not be easier if Frerin led him out of the mountain. It was only to be hoped that his brother had managed to send a bird to the Greenwood to announce his arrival.

One last time, his fingers stroked the blankets on his bed, felt over the stone mantelpiece and over the rough wooden table, then a knock on the door, caused Thorin to involuntarily straighten himself. Without even looking back, the dwarven prince took his bundle off the bed and put on his thick coat. Silently, the two guards took him down to the gate, where Dwalin and Balin were already waiting for him.

The old dwarf had tears in his eyes, and even Dwalin, who was a broad chested warrior, seemed oppressed as he put his hand on Thorin's shoulder. "I asked to accompany you as an escort, but the king denied it," the dwarf said. "After all, I persuaded him to give you slings and a bow for hunting."

"Thanks, Dwalin." Thorin happily accepted the items and stowed them in his bag. "Do not worry, as you know, I can protect my skin very well." Countless times, the two dwarves had measured each other in battle, had wrestled or practiced in the ax throwing, then laughed and feasted together.

"I know," said Dwalin, who evidently had the same memory as his friend. "Still, I wish I could do anything."

"You can," Thorin replied immediately. "Take care of my brother, yes Dwalin? And my sister. No matter what, make sure they're safe. "

"I promise, Thorin. I will protect them as if they were my own siblings, "Dwalin promised with a sidelong glance at his brother Balin, who also wanted to say goodbye to Thorin.

"My boy, seeing you go, fills me with great sorrow," confessed the old dwarf. "I know, I'm not your father, but since Thráin is not here ..."

"... which I did not expect," Thorin interrupted him. In fact, he was glad that his father had not come to say goodbye to him, since Thorin had no idea what he should tell him. There used to be a time when he thought his father would love him, but now Thorin was not sure anymore.

"In any case, I wholeheartedly hope that things will change, and even if everything seems to be lost for the moment, that one day you will find your way back home," Balin finished what he had wanted to say.

"I hope so too, Balin. I really do, "Thorin replied, before hugging the two dwarves in turn.

"Take care of yourself, Thorin," Balin murmured as he pressed his forehead against Thorin's in a gentle gesture. "May Mahal watch over you."

"And over you, Balin," Thorin replied, "and you, Dwalin, and over all the other dwarves of Erebor."

After saying all that could be said, Balin gave the dwarven prince another supply pack, which he had gotten from the kitchen and which Thorin also stowed in his bundle. Then Thorin shouldered his bag and stepped out the gate. The air that hit him was damp and cold. Dense fog lay over the valley and Laketown, only the Lonely Mountain towered out of the gray like a ragged needle, so that Thorin could not see the human settlements. When he turned to give one last smile to his friends, the guards behind him had crossed their lances, even though they did not seem happy, but they had their orders and Thorin understood their unmistakable sign: from now on there was no way back. He was no longer welcome here. With a grim nod, the dwarven prince turned away and straightened his shoulders before making his way across the ridge to the Greenwood.

XXXXXX

It had been long ago since Thranduil had moved north the last time. With the exception of the elvish festivals, he preferred not to leave the Greenwood. In this case, too, he would have preferred if his intervention had not been necessary, but the threat came closer and closer to his kingdom and too much blood had been spilled so that he could not close his eyes any longer. Since he also took foot soldiers along with the mounted warriors, they did not make as fast progress as Thranduil wanted. Only on the morning of the second day did they cross the snowy mountains of Ered Mithrin, yet they could already see the fires from here. While his warriors rested in a hollow, Thranduil stood on the ridge and stared down into the valley with his eyes narrowed. The sight that presented itself confirmed his worst fears. The huts of the village, which stood on the plain beyond the mountains and was protected by isolated trees against the sharp winds, burned brightly. Humans, small at the distance like ants, ran seemingly aimlessly back and forth in search of protection or a better point of attack, and above them, like a menacing black shadow, a huge fire-snake was circling.

XXXXXX

Thorin had not been in the open for more than an hour when the sky opened its locks. Heavy gusts of wind whipped the rain in cold gushes in front of him, so that the water stuck in the thick fur of the coat and made it wet and heavy. On the shallow hills that separated Erebor from the Greenwood, there were no trees to protect, only bushes and shrubs, so Thorin had no choice but to lower his head between his shoulders and defy wind and rain. His hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and over and over, drops of his beard or neck ran down the collar of his coat, so that at some point he had the feeling of being wet to the skin despite his clothes. Nevertheless, he continued stoically, his eyes always on the trees in front of him. Once he reached the dense foliage of the Greenwood, the rain would not reach him. Then he would stop for a while, untie his bundle and eat something, hoping to be found soon by an elvish patrol - if Frerin had sent the raven to the elves, otherwise he would have to continue on his own. But no matter which of the two alternatives would become reality in the end, everything was better than being a victim of the elements.

XXXXXX

Galion looked thoughtfully at the letter in his hands. In the king's absence, it was his duty to look through the correspondence that had arrived and decide whether the matter could wait until Thranduil's return or if an immediate intervention was necessary. But in that case he was not so sure if it was advisable to do anything at all. So the dwarven prince was on his way to Lasgalen. Already the moment Thranduil had promised the impertinent dwarf to bring him through the Greenwood, Galion knew that this was a mistake. Thorin did not belong here, would never do so. His appearance would only bring trouble and anger to their kingdom, why could not Thranduil see that? Why did he just throw his advice in the wind to forget the dwarf and instead accepted his courting gift? Unlike Legolas, who had not had much experience in such matters owing to his youth, Galion had recognized the bangle as what it was. A promise. An answer to the same eternal question.

Galion had assumed that Thranduil, in his old age and his wisdom, was above these things, but apparently he was wrong. And now Thorin wanted to demand what Thranduil had promised him. But the ruler of Lasgalen had gone into battle and would not be back so soon. No one but him had seen the letter and knew that the dwarven prince was on his way. The Greenwood was huge, dark and treacherous, if you did not know it. Galion doubted that the young dwarf would find the palace, even if he had a clue where to look. More likely, Thorin was lost in it and would never reappear. If so, the problem would be solved by itself. The peace would continue and they could live on as they had done all those millennia before. Nevertheless, Galion hesitated to consider this possibility. Thranduil trusted him as the friend he had been in all these millennia, and if he simply left Thorin to his fate, he would prove unworthy of that trust, even if his king never knew. His conscience would leave him no peace. Indignantly, Galion sighed. He was reluctant to make a decision in favor of the dwarf, but apparently he had no other choice.

XXXXXX

The hours passed without Thorin seeing a sign of the elves. Waiting, he had consumed his provisions and lit a small fire in the hope of drying his cloak a little, but the branches on the edge of the forest had been damp, so that the fire had produced more smoke than warming flames. After a few hours sitting and waiting, he finally broke camp. The sun, barely visible beyond the thick, gray rain clouds, had long since passed its zenith, and Thorin could not afford to wait unprotected for the approaching evening. If the elves had not come yet, they probably would not come today. So he had no choice but to go on his own into the inside of the Greenwood and try to find his way to the palace. Although he was not comfortable with spending the night alone in the forest, the grasslands between the Erebor and Lasgalen were no less dangerous, as they were repeatedly haunted by wargs and orcs, so Thorin finally packed his bundle and brought along all the courage he could muster to go inside the forest.

XXXXXX

The smoke was burning in his lungs. Breathing heavily, Thranduil rubbed back a strand of hair stuck to his face and looked around the battlefield. There were dead people everywhere, most savages or villagers, but a few warriors were also there. Thanks to the Valar, there were no victims among his people right now, but Thranduil knew it was only a matter of time if they could not find any remedy against the snake. The beast, spurred on by the savages who thought they could use the dragon for their purposes by inciting it on the villages and plundering them afterwards, indiscriminately attacked everyone and left behind only scorched earth and dead flesh. For months, the snake of the north had been destroying one village after another, getting closer and closer to the mountains that formed the natural border with Lasgalen. That had to end, here and now. Again and again the dragon came down from the sky and spit out its deadly breath. The humans fought against it with swords and lances and stabbed it with the courage of despair, while the elves tried to pierce it with arrows, but the dragon did not seem impressed. It only made it more furious. Thranduil himself watched the line of fire from his cover near a burning hut and prepared a plan.

There was only one chance to kill the dragon, when it was close to the ground to launch its fire. Someone would have to hide on the plain, so that he was practically invisible, and then, when the beast was over him, approach it from below and push a lance into its open mouth, the only place where the dragon was not covered with thick shed. It would be a dangerous task, and the risk to lose his life was high, yet it was their only chance to stop the beast. Experience and courage would be needed, and a sure hand eye in eye with death, that much was certain and for that reason there could only be one man in his army to accomplish this task. Filled with perfect calm, the Elvenking straightened before motioning one of his men in an imperious gesture to explain the plan to him.

XXXXXX

Thorin could not say how long he had been erring through the forest. All he knew was that it was so dark now that he could hardly see his hand in front of his eyes. The sparse daylight that had found its way through the dense foliage roof had eventually given way to a perpetual twilight that made it difficult to find a path between the huge tree giants. Again and again he stumbled over roots or was hit by branches in the face. The heavy coat hung on him like a wet sack and his still damp clothes clung to him uncomfortably, leaving Thorin so cold he had never been in his life.

Once he stumbled again, the dwarf had to admit that there was no point in trying to move on. He had to set up a night camp, for better or worse. Thorin finally laid his bundle in the shelter of a large boulder. After all, the ground was dry here, so he would at least sleep comfortably. Groping rather than seeing, the dwarf sought a few dry twigs to light a fire. Apart from the cold that seemed to go to his bones, Thorin did not know if there were any wild animals in the forest that he could keep away with the flames.

Although he knew how important it was to use his means sparingly, Thorin needed three attempts until he managed to ignite the branches with the tinderbox. Gratefully, he warmed his numb fingers to the flickering flames, before spreading his cloak by the fire and curling up in the tunic, close to the hearth. But though the dwarven prince was completely exhausted, the redemptive sleep did not come. Eerie sounds and dark shadows beyond the fire left him unable to rest. Never in his life had Thorin spent a night outside Erebor. Of course he was not afraid, Mahal forbid, but he did not feel comfortable with this camp under the open sky. The dawn was already sending its gray light into the forest, when Thorin finally fell into a restless slumber.

XXXXXX

Motionless and silently, Thranduil lay in his hiding place under ashes and charred planks on the floor, listening to the sound of his warriors following the plan to draw the dragon's attention. Although they had protested vehemently that he himself would try to kill the dragon, Thranduil had stifled every contradiction in the bud. As king, he determined who held which position and he had decided to take on the role of the dragon slayer. Not because he was tired of life, but because he saw only himself able to emerge victorious from this fight.

Thranduil was almost scared to breathe, as the dull sound of moving wings announced the approach of the fire serpent, the first arrows whistled past. He knew that his warriors, who had barricaded themselves not far away, would attack the dragon with all that was available to them, to challenge him to the low-altitude flight that preceded the firebeam. He just had to wait for the right time. The charred wood crashed as the dragon's tail slid over it, brushing it aside as if it were just a few straws, and before Thranduil knew it, the beast's massive body was above him. In fact, it was an imposing beast: greenish gray scales covering its belly, as well as the rest of the dragon's body, making it almost invulnerable.

`May the Valar be with me, 'Thranduil thought before he rolled sideways in the split of a second and jumped to his feet. He was about the same height as the beast's hind legs, but the snake had not noticed him yet. As if he were climbing a rock, Thranduil jumped up against the angular scales until he reached his back. Even though he looked tiny compared to the dragon himself, the beast seemed to have felt his touch, for it yelled indignantly and shook itself violently, trying to throw him down, but Thranduil was not easily shaken off. He clung to the jagged dorsal scales as he climbed farther forward. His hands were bleeding from the sharp edges he clung to, but the Elvenking felt no pain. He was fully focused on his mission. In spite of the beast's efforts, he finally reached the thick cornices that lay over the dragon's eyes and with a few skilful jumps Thranduil dived down until he reached the thorny nose.

As if in delusion, the dragon tossed its head back and forth and exhaled small flames, but Thranduil was not deterred and just as the beast began to roar again, the Elvenking pushed himself off and jumped, directly into the mouth of the animal. The breath of the snake stank of foul, of sulfur and decay, but Thranduil had no time for disgust. Fearless, he tore the sword from his scabbard, which he carried on his back, then he rammed it with all the strength he could muster, deep into the palate of the fire serpent. The bones of the dragon were hard and the Elvenking needed both arms to push the sword forward, but although the blood spurted and slobbered him, he did not stop until he had sunk it into the beast's flesh. Only then Thranduil ventured to escape, leaping out of the snake's mouth with a few powerful leaps. The impact on the ground was harder than expected, so it tore the Elvenking's legs from under the body. Behind him, the fire serpent screamed frighteningly as Thranduil struggled to roll over and stand up to bring as much distance between himself and the dying animal as possible. But it was too late.

From one moment to the next the air heated up around him, the hair on his arms burned away as he lifted them up protectively and at the same time made himself as small as he could. As his armor melted away from his body and he watched his tunic crumble to ashes, he thought, "I'm sorry, Thorin," then suddenly a weight threw itself on him, squeezing almost the air out of his lungs. A scream was heard so loud and shrill that Thranduil's eardrums threatened to burst. In the subconscious, he wondered if it was he who had screamed, but before he could find the answer, he realized that he was going up in flames and the certainty of dying wiped away everything that had been important until now.

 

Tbc ....


	9. Chapter 9

Once upon a time

Kapitel 9

Hallelujah, hallelujah  
Hallelujah, hallelujah

(Imogen Heap, Hallelujah)

 

It had been years since Thorin had last dreamed of his mother. Since he had been very young when she died, he had only a vague memory of her, but her smile and the way her voice had sounded when she sang had remained in his brain. Mostly she had sang when he was sad or could not sleep, while she had taken him in her arms and gently stroked his hair. Then he had felt as safe and secure as at no other place in Erebor. The dream that Thorin dreamed of her on the leafy ground of the Greenwood forest was, however, very different from the previous ones, because in this dream he saw himself lying next to the extinguished fire, asleep, while his mother leaned over him , stroking his hair back and whispered close to his ear, "Wake up, Thorin."

In fact, Thorin opened his eyes just then - only to look directly into the yellow ugly irises of the biggest rat the dwarf had ever seen. "By Mahal," he breathed, hurrying up. "Go away, you beast!" Thorin reached for the dagger on his belt, but the rat was already running out of reach, two other conspecifics at their side. Dazed by the horror, Thorin ran his hand over his face, trying to shake off the dream and wake up properly. The rats did not pose any danger to his life, but from the Erebor he knew only too well that the animals were a serious nuisance in the pantries. Oh no, the supplies! Hastily Thorin scrambled to look for his bundle and what he found confirmed his worst fears. There was nothing left of the package of provisions Balin had given him except a few pieces of bread and a half-eaten apple. But not only the food they had destroyed , the canteen had fallen victim to their greed, too. From several holes, the beer had poured from the bottle and seeped into the ground below.

If he did not find a source of water, Thorin would have to stay thirsty today. Sighing, the dwarf got up and brushed leaves and earth from his clothes. It was best to set a few traps and explore the area for water so he could fortify himself before continuing on to Thranduil's palace.

XXXXXX

By the Valar, where was this foolish dwarf ?! Shortly after the letter arrived, Galion had sent several patrols in search of Thorin into the woods, but by nightfall they had all returned without finding the dwarven prince. Solely the fact that the men had found an extinguished fire pit at the edge of the forest confirmed that Thorin was even in Lasgalen at all, but the ember had already been cold when the elves arrived, and the dwarf had been gone without a trace since then. He had probably strayed further when Galion thought it possible. There was no other choice, he would have to send more searching troops, but first he had to talk to Legolas. The young prince had been suspicious yesterday when Galion sent the men out, and he would not get away with a vague excuse a second time. Legolas deserved to know the truth, no doubt about it, but Galion would have preferred it if the king himself had told it to his son.

XXXXXX

There was no hell in the elvish religion, but in the thousands of years that Thranduil had stayed on Arda, he had committed enough sins to deserve a harsh punishment, and what he was living through could not be anything but the agony of eternal fire. It was as if he had been cursed to experience the moment he went up in flames over and over again. There was no room for a single clear thought, just a tremendous indescribable pain as the dragonfire seized his skin and burned as if it was made of paper. Thranduil's eyes were blind with unwavering tears and his lungs filled with venomous smoke that made it impossible for him to breathe, or to let out the scream that built inside him. His body tensed, trembling and twitching uncontrollably until, time after time, he lost control of the pain and plunged back into black infinity.

XXXXXX

Nothing, nothing and nothing. Thorin had checked the slings he had laid out a dozen times, but to no avail. No animal was caught in his traps. Even his explorations had revealed nothing new, neither had he found a source of water, nor spotted an animal he could have killed with a bow and arrow. Apart from the three rats in the morning, Thorin had not met a living thing at all yet, but their excretions testified that they existed. It was as if the forest had conspired against him. But Thorin was not ready to be beaten like that. Then he would just have to continue to search for the palace without provisions and maybe there would be something on the way.

XXXXXX

When Thranduil regained consciousness this time, the pain was different. It was no longer as if he was in a burst of flames, but like a continuous burning, as if he had been hung from a spit over the fire and would be grilled slowly. Not far away he could hear the voices of his warriors, but the meaning of their words would not reach his dull mind. Vaguely, he realized that he was moving, not on his own and yet the rocking movements were clear. Apparently he was lying on something, a stretcher or a wagon, but he could not move a muscle to make sure of it. He could not even open his eyes, all he could do was utter a sound that sounded like a mixture of groaning and wheezing, and the voices around him fell silent. Suddenly someone was supporting his neck while holding something cool to his lips. A liquid spilled into his sore mouth and Thranduil, unable to swallow, was almost suffocated by the drink. A rush of coughing made his exhausted body tremble until reality slipped away again and he sank back into unconsciousness.

XXXXXX

It was not as if Thorin never felt thirsty in his life, but nothing he had ever experienced was comparable to what he was suffering now. The longer the day went on, the more his tongue stuck to his palate and he had a booming headache. A few times he had already dug holes in the ground with his bare hands, to try and find groundwater by chance, but to no avail. In desperation he had tried to chew on bark or leaves, but the effect had been nil. In addition, he still had no idea where he was going. A few times he suspected that he was walking around in circles, but the forest had few prominent points, so he could not say so for sure. Mechanically, he stumbled on through the green hell, always straight ahead, until he came past a bush of red berries. Doubting, Thorin plucked some of the small fruits and studied them more closely. The berries were completely alien to him, smooth and as small as rubies. Examining, the dwarf crushed them in his hand and sniffed at the fruit mash, surprised at how juicy they were. A sweet scent, like a delicious mix of cherries and wild strawberries, made the saliva pour into his mouth. Should he really dare? They looked so wonderful and he was so thirsty that Thorin threw all concerns overboard and greedily stuck the berry mash into his mouth.

XXXXXX

If you are immortal, you hardly waste any thoughts on death. Even Thranduil had never thought about how it would be to lose his life. At a younger age he had assumed that he would one day sail to Valinor, but the longer his reign in Greenwood lasted, the less he believed he would someday move west. Although the members of his people were becoming fewer and fewer, he felt that it was his duty to remain with them as long as only one Eldar lived in Lasgalen. But when he encountered death in the battle, he was convinced that one day he would loose his life through the slash of a sword, but instead he would languish miserably through the biting breath of a dragon.

Judging by the sounds, it was night when Thranduil regained consciousness. The wagon on which he was lying stood still, and from his warriors he could hear nothing but their deep breaths. Apparently he had been covered with a blanket or a cloth, which increased the pain he felt, but still Thranduil could not move to push the material aside. After all, this time his mind was so clear that he could assign the location and intensity of the pain. His left arm, his chest and his side hurt a lot, but the worst thing was the agony on his face. Opening his eyes was still impossible, and his entire left half of his face ached at the slightest breeze, so he could not stay silent and a whimper escaped his cracked lips.

The rustle of fabric announced that his exclamation had not gone unheard, and a moment later one of his men joined him. "It's alright, my king," the man mumbled, then carefully lifted Thranduil's head and gave him another drink. The swallowing was still hard, but the liquid was balm for his burnt mouth. Subconsciously, Thranduil sensed the faint herbal note attached to the drink, then his mind became heavy and numb and the world slipped out of his grasp.

XXXXXX

Groaning, Thorin writhed on the forest floor. It probably was not an hour ago that he had eaten the berries and yet it seemed like an eternity. In the beginning, it had been like a pulling in his midsection, which had become stronger and meanwhile spasms tormented his stomach and cold sweat covered his forehead. It was unthinkable to go further, Thorin could hardly stand on his feet because of the pain. Never in his short life had he thought about death, but as things worked out, only a miracle would prevent him from passing away on the cool ground of the Greenwood forest today. Time was working against him and after two days in the woods, Thorin dared not to believe in any rescue by the elves. Maybe Frerin had not been able to send a bird to Lasgalen, or something had happened to the animal, or Thranduil was so upset about that he did not stayed in the Erebor until he sent word to him, that he ignored him now and left him to his fate. Anyway, Thorin could not go on any further. Weakened without food or water and with the poison in his body, the dwarf surrendered to his fate and made peace with the near end. "I'm giving myself into your hands, Mahal," he said in agony, but suddenly he heard hoofbeats.

Unbelieving, Thorin raised his head and squinted in the direction of the sound. At first he believed in a hallucination when he saw the group of riders among the dense trees. His eyes were cloudy from the poison, but still it could only be elves compared by the size and stature. With his last strength, Thorin dropped to his knees and shouted a greeting to draw attention to the men, then finally collapsed. He vaguely saw one of the men jump off the horse as soon as they reached him. His hair was golden and he wore a green tunic, but Thorin could not see any more, as suddenly a wave of nausea overcame him and he vomited in a rush, then everything went black.

 

Tbc ...


	10. Chapter 10

Once upon a time

Chapter 10

Spending my time  
Watching the days go by  
Feeling so small, I stare at the wall  
Hoping that you think of me, too  
I`m spending my time

(Roxette, Spending my time)

 

By Mahal, what happened? Had he been drinking too much? Groaning, Thorin stretched his stiff limbs. His head throbbed uncomfortably and his stomach felt sore and drowsy, but he could not remember a celebration or how he'd come back to his room. But was he even in his chambers? When he felt fine, smooth linen in his hands instead of coarse blankets and soft furs, Thorin opened his eyes curious. Bright sunlight shone on his face, so he had to close his eyelids immediately, confirming that he was not in the Erebor. But if he was not home, where was he? Thorin struggled to blink against the brightness to find out more of his surroundings, but all he saw was the bed he was lying in, which was the largest bed he had ever seen and the opposite wall made of light wood.

"He wakes up, my prince," he heard a voice say in the common tongue, then footsteps approached and someone responded in a foreign language. The mattress lowered as a person settled next to him, then a curtain closed and Thorin finally could see more clearly. The sight of the elf sitting next to him brought back a firework of memories, so Thorin held his breath for a moment as he stared at the man, and the Eldar stared back silently.

The elvish delegation. Thranduil. The dispute with Thrór. The departure of the elves. Thranduil. Thorin's capture. The council meeting. The letter to Thranduil. His exile. The Greenwood forest. The berries.

"Thranduil?" Thorin choked out. His throat was rough and his mouth still tasted of vomit.

"The king fights beyond Lasgalen against the terror of the north," the Eldar replied. The man still seemed to be young, if one could say that about an elf, with long blond hair and intense blue eyes that seemed strangely familiar to Thorin, who stared intently at the dwarf. "They call me Legolas. Thranduil Oropherion is my father. "

Hence the familiar feeling. Now that Thorin knew, he found more and more in the look of the elf that reminded him of Thranduil. A sting struck his heart as he realized he was too late, the Elvenking had already gone into battle. Nonetheless, the decency required the prince to be greeted appropriately, so Thorin struggled to imitate a bow while lying down, then cleared his throat. "And I am Thorin." 

"I know who you are, Thorin, son of Thráin," Legolas retorted. "A confidant of my father showed me the letter which a raven brought."

Involuntarily, Thorin winced at the mention of his name. "I am no longer the son of my father. I was ejected, banished. All I am now is a dwarf without a clan. "

The Eldar's eyes widened in surprise, then he nodded. "I understand," he answered. "But tell me what we elves could do about it."

Thorin was not sure how much Legolas knew about his relationship with Thranduil, so he chose his words wisely. "Your father and I are very close," the dwarf began hesitantly, but was interrupted by the Elvenprince.

"I'm aware of that," Legolas put in. "Galion explained to me the meaning of the gift you gave to my father."

"Then maybe you understand that I want nothing more than to be by his side. My place should be where his is. "

"I'm trying to understand," the Elvenprince replied, his eyes seeming to penetrate the dwarf to the bone. "From the moment I found you, I try to understand what my father sees in you."

Restless Thorin shifted in bed. He did not like being so litigated, even though Legolas' gaze was not hostile but merely curious. "I can not answer that. All I can assure you is that my intentions are only honorable. "

The Eldar made an indefinite sound, then rose. "Time will tell what the Valar has in store for you," he said cryptically. "You should rest. A servant will bring you whatever you need. "

The Elvenprince turned to leave, but Thorin called him back again. "Prince Legolas, I have not thanked you for the rescue yet."

"You should be more careful. The forest is no place for a dwarf, "the Eldar replied. "If you had been a mortal man, the berries would have killed you."

This information surprised Thorin little, he still remembered well the cramps in his stomach. "All the more I stand in your debt."

"Do not worry about it," Legolas replied as he moved away from the bed. "Rest, to regain your strength."

XXXXXX 

The steady twilight Thranduil was in had made him lose all sense of time, but it seemed to him as if they had been traveling for ages. Nothing remained to him except the rocking vehicle and the burning pain in the waking, as well as nightmares of fire and screaming in the sleep caused by the herbal juice. Unable to move or perceive his surroundings with anything more than his ears, the Elvenking lay apathetically on his bed awaiting death. The whispered voices of his men made him realize how close he was to dying, and pain as his constant companion promised perfect salvation should he let himself be dragged into the maelstrom of death. It was tempting to give in to the longing to end the suffering, yet Thranduil allowed his men to infuse him soup and water mixed with medicinal herbs, but he saw his life force continue to decrease with each passing moment.

XXXXXX 

Amazed, Thorin followed one of the guards through the endless corridors of the palace. The royal house of Lasgalen was so different from the golden halls of Erebor. The palace did not need any torches, as the sunlight shone through countless windows. Moss covered the floor like a carpet and the walls were of a white wood Thorin had never seen before. Although the autumn storms were raging in the other realms of Middle-earth, none of this was noticeable here. On the contrary, the part of the forest Thorin saw through the windows was blooming like spring, and it was warm and sunny. Birds filled the air with their songs and everywhere stood bowls of ripe fruit and carafes with wine and crystal clear water. For Thorin it was like a fairy tale. He had no idea what exactly he had expected, but what he saw exceeded all his imagination.

Thanks to the potions of the elvish healers, he had already left his sickbed a few hours after his awakening, and now, accompanied by a guard, roamed the palace, which was buzzing with activity even during the king's absence. Elvish inhabitants were constantly coming towards them, looking at Thorin curiously and dismissively: Servants with large laundry baskets, craftsmen handing orders or guards on their tour crossed their path, and Thorin got never tired of questioning his companion as far as possible. What it was like to live in eternal spring, why the elves did not eat meat, and where the servants slept were some of the things that went through his mind.

But despite so much to see, Thorin's thoughts still returned to Thranduil again and again. According to the guard, there was no message from the king and Thorin could only hope that his lover would return to him soon and unharmed. Several times he had asked the guard for the "horror of the north," but even though the man had answered every one of his questions, he remained unusually silent on the subject, so Thorin could only hope for Legolas and Thranduil's confidant Galion with whom he would join for dinner. When the dwarf was escorted by his companion into the dining room, the two elves were already sitting at the table, talking animatedly in their language. At first glance, Thorin realized that Galion had been a member of the elvish delegation, which had visited Erebor with the king. As the dwarf hesitantly came closer, the conversation died and although Thorin had not understood a word, he was sure that the two men had talked about him.

"Prince Thorin," Galion greeted in the common tongue as a servant pulled back the chair for the dwarf. As the furniture had been made for elves, Thorin had to climb up and his legs hung in the air as the chair was pushed back to its place at the table. "I am glad that you feel well enough to dine with us today."

Smiling politely, Thorin tilted his head in the direction of the dark-haired Eldar. "I would not be here without your help, so thank you, too."

"I did it for my king, not for you," Galion explained coolly. "If Thranduil had listened to my advice, he would not have accepted your gift."

Distraught by the clear words, Thorin turned to the elf. "Did I do something to raise your displeasure?"

"I may not be as old as king Thranduil, but I know the dwarfs," Galion replied. "You only crave one thing, power and wealth, and I wonder what your true desire is here in Lasgalen."

Sighing, Thorin shook his head. "I can not force you to believe that I'm acting out of love, but if that's not enough for you, then maybe it's the fact that I gave up everything to come here. My title, my clan, my home. "

But Galion was not convinced. "Who tells me it's not a ruse on your part?"

In an honest gesture, Thorin put his hands palm-up on the table. "All I can give you is my word, nothing more has remained to me."

"It's enough," Legolas cut in the conversation before Galion could reply. He had been silent all along, but although he knew that Galion wanted to protect his family, Legolas thought his friend had gone far enough. "We want to eat in peace now. Everything else will be revealed when the time comes. "

"Of course, my prince." Galion bowed his head in an implied bow and Thorin followed suit, but when they looked up again and their eyes met, the dwarf could see that the last word on the matter had not yet been spoken.

XXXXXX

 

The rest of the dinner was silent, interrupted only by a few polite phrases and a few trifles, but the air seemed tense, so Thorin finally asked to retreat. With a nod in the direction of the two elves, the dwarf rose from his seat. "I'll take you to your room," Legolas offered immediately.

"A servant can do that," protested Galion, but the Elvenprince insisted on accompanying Thorin, which the dark-haired Eldar visibly displeased. "You must not be angry with Galion for his mistrust," Legolas said as he led the dwarf a little later through one of he corridors of the palace. "He has been protecting our family for so long that it has become flesh and blood for him. I've known him since I've been born and in all that time he was so much more than a mere adviser or guard. "

"A lover, maybe?" Thorin blurted out before he could restrain himself. He knew he had no right to ask such a question, since it was only logical that Thranduil had had more than one affair in his long life, but like all dwarfs he was jealous and did not want to share what was his with no one. Two guards approached and saluted the Elvenprince, leaving Legolas to wait until they were out of earshot.

"No," he replied with a meaningful sideways glance. "Probably not. Although Galion has never hinted to me how he faces these things, as far as I know, he has always been a good friend to my father since my mother died. "

Thorin realized immediately that he had hit a sore spot. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I did not want to cause you any grief."

"You have not," Legolas protested, but he did not look at Thorin, but kept his eyes on the path that went up and then down. "My father went through a difficult time and he still finds it hard to talk about her, but that must come to an end. He deserves to be happy. "

Thorin wanted to assure him that this was exactly what he wanted, that he would do anything to make Thranduil happy, but at that moment suddenly a servant appeared before them. He bowed respectfully to the Elvenprince before delivering his news. "Prince Legolas, a messenger has just arrived at the palace with news from the north. But it's not good news. "

XXXXXXX 

After the arrival of the messenger it took almost two days before the elvish army reached the palace. Thorin counted every second of it. Unlike Legolas, who made sure that the healing chambers were prepared for the injured, that the stables were strewn for the horses, and that food and drinks were ready for the returning soldiers, Thorin had no task to keep him from the gloomy thoughts. The Elvenking was injured, badly injured. Although he had killed the dragon that had terrorized the northern lands, the price of the victory had been hard to come by. Dozens of warriors had lost their lives, and by the time the guard had left the army, it was not yet certain that Thranduil would make it home to Lasgalen.

Restless, Thorin paced up and down his room. Since he learned the news, he could not enjoy the wonders of the palace any more. A cold hand had settled around his heart, so that he constantly felt an oppressive feeling in him. What if Thranduil did not make it? If he died before he reached the palace? Then he would never know what Thorin had given up for him. Then everything had been in vain. Thorin could not go home, but he would not be able to stay in Greenwood either. He would be alone and homeless, without family and without hope. By Mahal, that was not going to happen. Desperately, Thorin ruffled his hair and was about to make another round through the room when he heard the fanfares. Shocked, the dwarf paused in the movement, for this could only mean one thing: the elvish army had returned home.

 

Tbc ...


	11. Chapter 11

Once upon a time

Chapter 11

Alle Männer müssen kämpfen, sagten sie mir.  
Alle Männer müssen kämpfen, das sag ich nun dir.  
Viele Männer werden sterben  
Und ich bet` ich wär nicht dabei.  
Viele Männer werden sterben  
Und wenn`s mich trifft, hoff` ich du verzeihst.

(Xavier Naidoo, Alle Männer müssen kämpfen)

 

Legolas was born after the great war, yet he had seen more than once his father and their army go into battle. Mostly it had been battles against the troops of Mordor who had ventured too close to the borders of the Greenwood, but though a few men had fallen, the soldiers of Lasgalen had always managed to return victorious from the battle. And though the threat to the forest's inhabitants could be averted this time as well, the return of the soldiers seemed like a defeat. No rejoicing filled the palace as the riders came in sight, first the banner bearers, then the swordsmen and finally the wagons before the archers followed on foot.

With his heart pounding, Thorin waited between the elves for the army to reach the gates, Legolas on his left, Galion on his right. Even at first glance, the dwarf could make out that some horses did not carry riders on their backs and that one or the other horse was lame. The elves, too, were not as immaculate as Thorin remembered them. For many, the golden armor was dented, their faces smeared with soot, dirt, and blood. One rider carried his arm in a sling, another had no helmet over his bandaged head, yet they sat proud and straight in the saddle as they passed Legolas and bowed their heads in greeting. The servants took the horses inside the yard and helped the exhausted soldiers, who either went to the healing chambers or set out to see their families. 

The wagon on which the king lay was the first behind the riders who passed the gate, and when Thorin recognized him, there was no stopping the dwarf. Impetuously, Thorin made his way through the elves, who lined the way until he reached the wagon. A soldier tried to shield the injured man from Thorin, but at a call from Legoal, who, with Galion, hurried close behind the dwarf and the eldar stepped aside. Although the wagon had not come to a halt yet, Thorin scrambled to the back, where Thranduil was resting on a layer of blankets. The sight of the injured king made the dwarf's heart sink. Obviously, the Elvenking wore no clothes under the covers and what Thorin could see of Thranduil's body was black with soot. His once silver-gold hair framed his face in dirty strands. The cloths that covered the king's left side, his shoulder, and his left arm were soaked with suds and blood. The eye Thorin could see was closed, the eyelids glued together, and neither eyebrows nor eyelashes seemed to have remained.

"Thranduil," Thorin called out as he leaned over the injured man and took the elf's limp right hand in his, but there was no indication that the Elvenking had heard him. At that moment the wagon stopped in the yard. Two men carrying a stretcher hurried to bring the king to the healing chambers, but Thorin's instincts did not allow anyone to come near Thranduil. A growl escaped him as he looked around with wild eyes as he shielded the king with his body. Galion, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and pain, started to forcefully remove the dwarf, but Legolas, who had been running beside the wagon, held him back. Although he was no less appalled by his father's condition, he understood that Thorin was beyond his senses at the moment.

"Thorin," the Elvenprince tried to reason the dwarf. "You must step aside so that my father can be cared for."

It was obvious that Thorin did not want to retreat, but a groan escaping Thranduil's cracked lips let him come to his senses, reluctantly allowing the elves to do so. After the two men had climbed onto the wagon, they lifted the king as carefully as possible over on the stretcher and climbed down again from the wagon. Although he was still unconscious, Thranduil groaned in agony as the shock hit his burned body.

"Ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen," Legolas said quietly as he stepped next to his father and pressed his lips in a gentle gesture on Thranduil's hairline, then nodded to the servants, who immediately began to move. Thorin did not hesitate for a moment to follow the stretcher, nor did Legolas, only Galion stayed behind to receive the remaining troops. When they reached the door to the healing chambers, Legolas finally held the dwarf back. "It would be better to wait outside," the Elvenprince said gravely. "The pain of treating the wounds may be too much for you."

"No," Thorin replied firmly. "I will not leave him alone."

"Then hold back and let the healers do their work if you do not want him to pass away," Legolas replied, referring to the scene on the wagon.

Thorin understood. With a determined nod he said, "I swear to Mahal I will not do anything to endanger your father's health."

"Then so be it." Without another word Legolas stepped back from the dwarf and let him enter the realm of the healers. The room into which the Elvenking had been brought was much larger than the one in which Thorin had awakened, but here, too, the chamber was dominated by large windows through which bright daylight came in. Two white-robed healers instructed the servants to place Thranduil on the bed in the center of the room while Thorin silently stepped to his companion's side. Layer by layer, the elvish healers disposed the Elveking of blankets and cloths, which they had to moisten with warm water to remove them from the burns.

The pain this caused drew Thranduil back from unconsciousness despite the poppy juice. As if he were mad, he squirmed on the bed, flailing and screaming so loud that Thorin's ears began to ring. In an attempt to soothe his lover, the dwarf spoke to him, took his healthy hand in his own and pressed it to show Thranduil that he was standing by his side, but the Eldar did not seem to hear him. Unable to open his eyes, he fell into a wild frenzy. His body bucked like madness in spite of the severe injuries and it took another phial of sleeping potion, Legolas inspired his father while a servant held his head, so that Thranduil's limbs relaxed again and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Only now could the healers wash the battered body of the Elvenking to examine the wounds. The more soot and dirt they removed, the more obvious the extent of the injuries became. Thranduil's left arm, his shoulder and half of his face, were so badly burned that not only was the skin missing, but the flesh had melted to the tendons and muscles. Thorin struggled against the gagging as he watched the healers remove the sticky tissue so that they could look down to the bone, but he did not force his eyes away. It would have seemed like a betrayal of Thranduil if he had not withstood the sight. In order to feel he had something to do, he washed the encrusted hair of his companion with a sponge until it was no longer hard and dirty, but framed wet and dark Thranduil's face. "Maetho, Meleth no," Thorin whispered very close to the elf's ear, as the healers brushed the wounds with a paste of crushed herbs before laying clean cloths over them again, then retreated. They had done everything in their power to help their king. Now they could only wait and pray that Thranduil would recover from the severe burns.

Thorin jumped when he felt Legola's hand on his shoulder. "Come, you can not do anything here anymore."

"No," the dwarf said, exhausted from the emotional effort. "I want to stay with him."

"The sleep potion will last for hours, and you should rest as well. A servant can wake you when something changes in my father's condition, "the Elvenprince suggested.

"Still, I want to stay here," Thorin admitted. "Even though the rooms you gave me are very beautiful, I would not find peace there."

Legolas looked thoughtfully at the dwarf, then finally nodded. "As you wish. I have to fulfill my duties and look after the men who have been wounded, too. "

"Of course," Thorin replied. "They also went to fight for you."

The Elvenprince's gaze went nowhere and suddenly he looked much older than when they first talked. "You speak true, so I must pay respect to them by honoring their wounds and mourn the sacrifice of those who have not made it home. Let a servant know if you need anything. " 

"Navaer, Prince Legolas," Thorin said goodbye.

"Hodo vae, Thorin," Legolas replied, then left the room. A servant brought the dwarf a chair before he retired too, leaving Thorin alone with Thranduil. Sighing, he sat down next to the bed on Thranduil's healthy side. Tenderly, his great hand grasped the elf's fingers as he looked thoughtfully down at the ruptured ankles. Although the healers had washed Thranduil's hands, the soot of the fire still sat under the fingernails and in the joint folds, and there was a smell of ash and embers in the air that made Thorin shiver. Why had Thranduil accepted to die? Had he forgotten Thorin so quickly? And when the dragon spit his deadly fire, was he afraid? Self-forgetting Thorin took the rough fingers to his mouth and kissed them.

"Losto vae, Muin nín," he mumbled before bedding his head next to his companion's body on the mattress, then Thorin closed his eyes.

XXXXXX

In the next few days, little changed in Thranduil's condition. Each time the poppy juice effect wore off, the Elvenking tossed on his bed, groaning and screaming until his voice was hoarse and no more than a whimper escaped his lips. Untiringly, Thorin remained at his side, caressing and holding him tight when needed, talking alternately in the common tongue and in khûzdul, as well as in the few elvish words he knew with him, but Thranduil seemed to recognize no one and not to understand what happened and where he was. Although they were reluctant to do so, they had no choice but to stun their king with poppy juice every time he erupted so he would not hurt himself worse than he already was. Every day they changed the tissues on the wounds and washed the injuries with herbal tinctures, but despite the elvish healing art, it was questionable whether they would ever close completely. Legolas, unlike Thorin, who refused to leave Thranduil's sickbed for more than a few minutes, came to the healing chambers several times a day to check on his father before returning to his duties as Crown Prince. Sometimes Galion was with him, but he mostly ignored the dwarf and Thorin did the same. Thranduil's bedside was not a place to continue their dispute.

It was not until the fourth day after the return of the army to Lasgalen that Thranduil fully came to his senses. When he awoke from the dreams of fire and blood, opening his right eye and seeing the ceiling of white wood above him, he knew instantly that he was at home. The light through the windows was still weak, which was why he assumed it must be early morning. Thank the Valar, he had survived the battle, but what about his men? Did they also escape the beast and was the fire serpent truly dead? And why could not he see with his second eye? Dull, he felt the pain in his left half of the body, so he raised his right hand from the covers and felt over his left arm. Thranduil needed answers, though he feared he would not like them. Tense, his fingers felt over the cloths that covered the burned skin upward, over his shoulder until he reached his face. The pain increased as he touched his cheek and finally tried to pull the cloth aside to open the eye. The sensitive skin clung to the cloth, causing Thranduil to inhale sharply, and it was this sound that awoke Thorin.

"Thranduil!" Startled, the Elvenking flinched when he heard the dwarf's voice. He had been so lost in the inspection of his wounds that he had not noticed Thorin yet. Surprised, he paused in his efforts and turned his head to look at the dwarf who stood beside his bed. Thorin ... Thranduil had not believed in seeing the dwarf alive again, the more his heart sang at the sight of him. Thorin looked tired and at the same time immensely relieved, giving him a wild and beautiful appearance. The Elvenking tried a smile, but failed miserably as the pain turned his face into a rigid mask. 

"Thorin," he whispered, even surprised at how weak his voice sounded. His throat seemed rough and inflamed, his mouth dry as sandpaper, and Thranduil still felt the taste of the smoke on his tongue.

"Shhh," the dwarf tried to reassure his lover. "You should not talk. Save your strength for your recovery. "

"No," Thranduil fought off his well-intentioned words by trying to sit up, but dizziness and weakness made his movements erratic and slow, "I can not lay flat on my back, my kingdom needs me."

"You're in no condition to leave the bed," Thorin countered, gently but firmly pushing the Elvenking back into the pillows. "You're lucky that you just escaped death."

"I am the king," Thranduil replied wearily, "I can not stay away from the council any longer."

"Yes, you can and you will, Adar." Unnoticed by Thorin and Thranduil, Legolas had come into the room and now stepped to his father's bed. "Your experience is unequal, but we do not need your guidance at the moment. I oversee the council as you have told me and Galion supports me in all matters. Your greatest duty is to recover soon. "

"Legolas." Thranduil's face spoke of relief and joy at seeing his son, but although he would rather have told him how proud he was of him, there were more important things to clarify. "Why am I not dead?"

Involuntarily, Thorin flinched, but the Elvenprince's face did not give away if the question shocked him as well, instead he answered straightaway. "The soldiers have done everything in their power to care for your wounds until you were back in Lasgalen."

"Do not treat me like a fool," Thranduil said emphatically. "Why am I still alive?" Slowly Thorin began to understand as he looked from one to the other. Ever since he had heard of Thranduil's wounding, he had been so worried that this obvious question had not occurred to him. Nobody survived the fire blast of a dragon, not even an Eldar. The fire serpent had put all its power into the last blaze, so that Thranduil should be no more than a pile of ashes, yet he was alive.

"The men have done their duty," Legoals countered, but it was obvious he did not like to talk about it. "And sacrificed themselves for their king by protecting you from the flames with their bodies."

Thranduil's mouth filled with invisible ashes and a cold hand wrapped around his heart. "Who, Legolas, who died because of me?"

The Elvenprince lowered his gaze, unable to look his father in the eyes when he answered, "Finnarel, Girion and Eludir. We held a memorial service for them because there was nothing left to bury. "

Tormented Thranduil closed his healthy eye as the pictures flooded over him. Finnarel had been Legolas friend, a young Eldar barely a hundred years older than his son. His parents had sailed west a few centuries ago, but Finnarel had refused to leave the Greenwood. Girion had a companion who had been waiting for him. He had been a gifted lute player, had played for them at every feast, and he knew Eludir for almost as long as Galion. Nobody had read tracks as well as he did. Their death was an almost irreparable loss, and the fact that they had died for him did not help.

"Leave me alone," he said, his voice heavy with pain "so I can mourn them. It's the least I can think of. "

Although Thorin was reluctant of the idea, he respected Thranduil's request. Silently, he left the room at Legolas' side and closed the door behind him. He did not know if there was any kind of chapel in the palace, but he decided to ask the Elvenprince as they left the healing chambers behind. Although he was unfamiliar with elvish customs, he would still be praying for the fallen elves. It was thanks to their sacrifice that Thranduil had returned to him alive. He would not forget that, and he hoped that this selfless act had send them directly to their ancestors' halls.

 

Tbc ....


	12. Chapter 12

Once upon a time

Chapter 12

The sunlight is too much for you to bear  
It`s high time if you came up for air  
Don`t hide a single thing behind your perfect skin  
Don`t keep your secrets in a prayer

(Rag`n`Bone Man, Love you any less)

 

Silently Thorin approached the door. From inside he could hear the voice of a healer speaking to his patient in Sindarin, but although the dwarf had broadened his vocabulary of elvish, he did not understand a word of what was being said. As it had been Thorin's wish he had been praying in the Holy Garden for the souls of the soldiers who had sacrificed themselfs for Thranduil, but after that he had been restless wandering through the palace until the sun kissed the horizon. He wanted to give Thranduil time to mourn his men, but at the same time it urged him to be back by his side. For too long he had been waiting for Thranduil to regain consciousness to stay away from him for longer than necessary. Still, he hesitated as the door opened and the healer left the room, afraid to enter.

Waiting, he stood in the doorway and watched Thranduil, sitting upright in bed, examining his freshly cared wounds in a silver hand mirror. His arm and shoulder were covered with white bandages, but the burned face had just been cleansed and spread over with a herbal tincture, presumably to let the burns dry in the air. Bright red with deep holes, where once had been Thranduil's cheek, the burns rose against the white skin on the healthy side. The left eye was still heavily swollen and blemished with blue bruises on the temple and over the cheekbone so that the Elvenking could not open it. A pain that had nothing to do with the physical wounds, darkened Thranduil's features as his fingers gently probed over the mangled flesh and Thorin was torn whether Thranduil would accept his encouragement at this moment or would rather be left in his suffering alone. Not that the burns had changed any of Thorin's feelings for the Elvenking. On the contrary, never before had he realized more that he loved the man in front of him, like the moment he thought he might lose him.

But that was precisely why he wanted to preserve Thranduil's dignity and give him the opportunity to deal with the consequences of the fight before he confronted Thorin again. But the moment he decided to go away quietly, Thranduil dropped the mirror and saw the dwarf standing in the open door. "Muìn nín," the Elvenking greeted him and the right corner of his mouth lifted in the flicker of a smile, while the left remained frozen by the burning. The pupil of his right eye was conspicuously large despite the brightness in the room, so Thorin knew that the healer had given Thranduil again from the poppy juice to relieve the severe pain. The dose, however, seemed to be so carefully measured that he did not fell back into unconsciousness. "My heart goes wide at the sight of you, but tell me, must I expect to see Erebor's troops march into Lasgalen soon?"

"No, amrâlimê, do not worry, no one will come to reclaim me," Thorin replied, approaching the bed. "I renounced my clan. There was no other way, but I would do it again anytime. My grandfather banished me for life. The Greenwood is now my home. "

"Naethen, Thorin." The smile on Thranduil's face faded as he heard the grief in his lover's words. "Sit down by my side and tell me the whole story." Obediently Thorin wanted to settle in the chair next to the bed, but the Elvenking patted invitingly the mattress on his healthy side. "No, Meleth, do not stay away. I want to know you near me. "

"As you wish," Thorin replied, stripping off his boots and climbing onto the bed next to the elf. It was a strange feeling to be so close to him and Thorin felt strangely self-conscious. Although he had sat for days at Thranduil's bed, holding his hand and washing his hair, it was not the same now that the Elvenking was awake and aware of him. "Are the wounds scaring you, my heart?" Asked Thranduil, who had noticed that Thorin was sitting on the very edge of the mattress.

"No, Amral. I just do not want to hurt you, "Thorin replied honestly.

"Be assured, you do not hurt me. The pain of not being able to touch you is greater than the one you could ever inflict on my wounds. "With that, Thranduil took the dwarf's fingers into his healthy hand and stroked them lightly. "Now speak to me, Meleth. Tell me what happened after I left the Erebor. "

XXXXXX 

The silence was like a soft blanket over the room when Thorin had finished his story. At some point, while he had lost himself in his memories, Thranduil's head had dropped to his shoulder, and when he reached the point where he had said goodbye to his brother, the Elvenking's eyes closed. The hand, which still held Thorin's fingers, sagged and his breathing was calm and deep. But though Thorin still wanted to ask his lover if he could send a raven to Erebor to inform his siblings about his healthy arrival, he did not mind that the elf had not been able to stay away from the land of dreams. He was still too exhausted and the effect of the poppy juice was too strong for Thranduil to stay awake for more than a few hours.

As long as the fate of the Elvenking had not been clarified, Thorin had not dared to write to his siblings, he had not wanted to worry them more than they probably already were. And even if it urged him to send them a message, they would now have to wait one more day for a word from him.

"Sleep, Amral," Thorin whispered tenderly as he pressed his lips to Thranduil's hair. "Do not worry, I'm here."

XXXXXX 

 

It had become late when Legolas passed through the corridors of the palace in the light of a shining stone. In his temples it hammered uncomfortable and his thoughts just did not want to settle down. Although the threat of the Fire Serpent had been banned thanks to his father's army, there was no rest in Lasgalen. For weeks, the spiders in the south of the forest were raging worse than ever, and the orcs' attacks piled up, as if instinctively sensing that the Greenwood was at the moment without its ruler. Or as if someone had told them. Legolas refused to think it over, but it did not want to get completely out of his head. But there were more important things to clarify: The council urged a large number of soldiers to be sent to the South as a liberation and to put Mordor's creatures in their place once and for all, but even though Galion supported this opinion, Legolas hesitated to agree before he talked about it with his father. But it was too early to burden Thranduil with these problems, even though he had tried not to show it, but Legolas knew his father well enough to see how weakened he still was. Therefore, he had contented himself with further reinforcing border patrols and instructing the men to take care to prevent spiders from spreading to the rest of the forest at all costs. He could not do more under these circumstances.

As quietly as possible, Legolas opened the door to his father's chamber. He was aware that he was likely to find him asleep, but without seeing him again, Legolas did not want to lie down to rest. Full and round, the moon was above the Greenwood Forest and sent its rays through the large windows of the healing chamber, so that the room was dimly lit in its cold light. The scene he shone on was idyllic and of a strange beauty, so Legolas almost felt like an intruder. Like the rock from which the dwarfs were said to have arisen, Thorin sat in the white cushions, his eyes closed, dark and rugged and strong at the same time, holding his father in his arms, his head leaning confidently on his shoulder, asleep. Like a waterfall, the light hair fell over his shoulder and covered the burnt side of his face, so that one could believe that the gravily hours in which they had not known whether Thranduil would survive would never have happened, but Legolas knew better.

He had seen Thorin holding his father's hand, whispering encouragement and prayers to him, withstanding the wounds and staying strong even when he himself was almost broken. Since then, he saw the dwarf with different eyes and slowly he understood what it was that his father saw in Thorin. Silently Legolas took a step back and closed the door again. As long as Thorin was with his father, he did not have to worry. As the dwarf had held him, not even the armies of Mordor would manage to harm Thranduil.

 

XXXXXX

For the first time in a long while Thranduil awoke with the feeling of absolute security. He'd been druged with poppy juice every day since the dragonfire, but his dreams had always been dark and full of horror. This time his sleep was restful and he could not remember having dreamed anything at all. A strangely yet familiar smell hung over the bed, and something heavy spread a pleasant warmth on his right leg. Thranduil comfortably stretched his limbs, but this caused a painful burning sensation in his shoulder and caused him to twitch with agony. "Amral, is everything alright?" He heard Thorin's worried voice beside him, which made Thranduil open his eyes in surprise. In an attempt to orient himself, he sat up, brushed his hair out of his face and scanned the room until he was caught by the dwarf sitting on the bed next to him with his big hand resting on his thigh.

"Yes, Muìn nin," Thranduil replied, forcing a smile. "It is nothing."

"You're in pain," Thorin stated, pointing to the Elvenking's left arm, which he held tightly against his side. "Should I get a healer?"

"No, Meleth," Thranduil resisted. "There is no need. The pain is bearable and I do not want to have to take the poppy juice again. The medicine makes my mind sluggish and confused. "

"But you should not torture yourself," Thorin replied reproachfully. "Your body needs rest to heal."

Despite the pain, Thranduil tried to relax his arm to soothe Thorin. "Your concern honors me, but it is unfounded."

Before the dwarf could start a renewed contradiction, Legolas poked his head through the crack of the door. Seeing his father awake, he stepped into the room completely, causing Thorin to move a little further from Thranduil. Although he was not ashemed for his feelings for the Elvenking, he was not sure if Thranduil was content to be met by his son in Thorin's embrace. Courtesily Legolas bowed his head to the dwarf before turning to his father. "Adar, can I talk to you briefly?"

Thranduil also bowed his head in greeting, then straightened up a bit in bed before answering, "Of course, come in."

"I was just about to ask to send a raven to Erebor anyway," Thorin replied as he slid off the bed and put on his boots. Although Legolas had not said it, the dwarf realized that it was about things that were probably not meant for his ears. "My siblings have been waiting for a word from me for days to know that I'm fine. And a detour via the kitchen would not be wrong, "he added mischievously, as his stomach began to growl loudly.

Thranduil smiled slightly, at that typically dwarfish emotion, but promptly confirmed his suspicions by answering, "Of course, Meleth. Write them a letter and let one of the servants show you the way to falconry. "Thorin nodded curtly, then made preparations to leave the room, as Thranduil addressed him again:" And do not forget to eat enough. "

XXXXXX 

Deliberately Thranduil brought the cup to his lips and tried to sip gently, holding his head so that the drink did not touch the burned side of his cheek. Never in his life had he thought so much about a simple fluid intake, but even though it was only water mixed with herbs, it was still hard for him to swallow the drink. The herbs burned on his tongue and his throat felt tight. Eating would be much harder, but although he did not feel hungry, the healers insisted that he eats small amounts of soft bread and chopped fruits to keep his strength. After all, he had prevented Legolas from keeping him company for his breakfast.

Although he knew that his son was only worried, Thranduil tried everything to give him no reason to. Politely, Legolas had inquired about his health and solicited some governmental advice, but the Elvenking sensed that his son had more on his mind than he wanted to tell him. The burden of ruling a kingdom lay heavy on Legolas shoulders, so Thranduil had told him in their conversation also straightway that he wanted to hold audiences as soon as possible and participate in the council sessions, but Legolas had not wanted to hear about it. "You need to get well, Adar. I'll take care of everything else, "Legolas had said with a forcefulness that had chilled Thranduil down the spine. If that was Legolas will, he would do anything to reach that aim, but still he would try to regain his place as king as soon as possible.

A sound at the door made him pause in his meal, and as Thranduil looked up, he spotted a young, dark-haired Eldar who had accompanied them a year ago from Rhûn to Lasgalen. If the Elvenking remembered correctly, his name was Edrahil. The settlement he came from had been completely destroyed in an orc attack a few months earlier, and he had managed to escape as the only survivor, but the scars on his body testified that he still had not got off unharmed. The elves of Rhûn had welcomed him into their community, but on the Midsummer Day celebrations, Edrahil had asked to be allowed to move to Lasgalen with the Woodland elves. Thranduil had agreed with his request, but he had to admit he had lost sight of Edrahil's fate since then. He worked with the taylors, as far as Thranduil knew, and in any case had no business in this part of the palace.

"Edrahil, you were not summoned, so what are you doing here?" The Elvenking called the Eldar, but Edrahil did not answer. Instead, the young man hesitated for a moment in the doorway and looked at the Elvenking with his head tilted. Then he came in and carefully closed the door behind him.

"Edrahil, speak," demanded Thranduil the man imperious. "What is your desire?"

Swiftly the Eldar had crossed the room until he stood before the bed of the Elvenking, then he drew a dagger from his robe. "Killing you."

 

Tbc ....


	13. Chapter 13

Once upon a time

Chapter 13

Never opened myself this way  
Life is ours, we live it our way  
All these words I don`t just say  
And nothing else matters

(Metallica, Nothing else matters)

 

Edrahil stood so before to him that Thranduil could see the madness in his eyes and he wondered involuntarily why he had not noticed it earlier. Because he had been too busy with himself, his guilty conscience told him, because he had lost sight of the concerns of his people, their worries and hardships. If he had listened better and had not been so blinded, he would have noticed that months had passed between the attack on the elvish settlement and Edrahil's arrival at Rhûn, and the wounds the young Eldar carried were not wounds, which he had incurred during the escape. They were wounds of endless torture. Testimonies of how Edrahil had been broken and than made into a puppet of Mordor. Orcs did not take prisoners unless they had a purpose, and now, after more than a year in Lasgalen, Edrahil's destiny seemed to reveal itself, "I'm sorry," Thranduil whispered with true repentance as the young Eldar stared at him ,

"Why could not you die by the dragonfire, as the Master foresaw?" Edrahil asked, but he seemed to expect no answer, but spoke straight on. "It would have been such a dignified death than to end by my hand." 

The next moment several things happened at the same time: with a look of regret on his face, the Eldar raised the dagger, while Thranduil reflexively tore his good arm up to protect his body, but Edrahil did not get to stab him, instead he was thrown off his feet when something heavy jumped onto his back with a guttural sound. Full of rage like a rabid dog, Thorin fought the Eldar, who had quickly recovered from his surprise and was now trying to shake off the dwarf. Thorin had seen Edrahil walk through the door, and a feeling deep inside had kept him from waiting outside the room. Instead, he had opened the door as quietly as one would never believe a dwarf could do so, just in time to see the dagger flashing in Edrahil's hand.

In the meantime, the Eldar had managed to maneuver around so that Thorin now sat on his chest instead of on his back and wrestled with him while Edrahil tried to pierce him with the dagger. Blood dripped from a gaping cut at Thorin's eyebrow, where the blade had struck him, then he managed to knock the dagger out of the Eldar's hand. The weapon flew through the air, out of reach for the two men and slid across the smooth floor until it finally came to rest beneath the Elvenking's bed. Even so, Edrahil fought on, but he had no chance against the raging dwarf. "Die, you dirty dog," Thorin gasped, bringing Edrahil down and knocking his head on the floor. The Eldar howled in pain, his fingers clawing at Thorin's hands, which wrapped around his neck and pinched his breath. He coughed, his eyes rolling back in his head, but just as he was losing consciousness, Thranduil's voice came from the bed. "Thorin, no. Let him live. "

"He was trying to kill you," the dwarf growled, not letting go of Edrahil.

"It's not his fault," Thranduil explained kindly. “His body was broken, his mind was confused. He deserves our pity, not death. "

"That may be your opinion, not mine, but he deserves the dungeon," Thorin growled, descending with one last watchful eye on the unconscious Eldar.

"That's where he's going to be brought," Thranduil agreed, glad to get through to Thorin. "Guards!"

It was not a minute before two guards stormed into the room through the open door. Their faces betrayed their consternation at the scene they found, but before they could make the wrong conclusions, Thranduil briefed them on what had happened. "Are you alright?" Thorin asked worriedly after the guards had escorted the unconscious Edrahil out of the room, leaving him alone with the Elvenking.

The dwarf had settled on the edge of the bed and carefully searched his lover's face for possible injuries. "I'm fine, Melleth nin," Thranduil said, handing Thorin a towel that had been lying next to him. "But you are bleeding. Shall I call for the healers? "

Surprised, Thorin pressed the cloth against his forehead and then looked at the bloody fabric. The adrenaline rushed through his body in such high waves that he felt no pain. "That's not necessary, Amral. It's just a scratch. "

As if to convince himself that Thorin's wounding was not severe, Thranduil stretched out his healthy hand and felt carefully over the cut, then smiled reassuredly. "Who would have thought that you would experience your first fight next to my bed?"

Thorin hesitated for a moment, then remembered the exchange of words on their first meeting, when he had admitted he had never been involved in a real fight and laughed with a chuckle. "True, and as I prophesied then, I am victorious, as you see."

"Yes, you are," Thranduil confirmed, stroking the dwarf's bearded face. "Without your intervention, I probably would not be alive."

Tenderly Thorin covered the Eldar's fingers with his. "My life belongs to you. As long as I can hold a sword, I will use it to defend you. "

Thranduil's heart swelled with these words, but before he could express his feelings, the door was torn open and Legolas stormed into the room. Startled by the disturbance, Thorin flinched and started to pull away, but Thranduil held him back.

"Adar!" The Elvenprince's face was drawn with concern as he reached the bed. "I just received the news. Are you all right?"

"I'm well, Ion nín, thanks to Thorin's brave actions," said the Elvenking, who now held the dwarf's fingers crossed with his own. 

Ignoring the intimate gesture, Legolas bowed his head in the direction of the dwarf. "I am indebted to you forever. Lasgalen is deeply in your debt. "

"There's no reason," Thorin replied. "I did what my heart commanded. The well-being of your father is all that matters to me. "

Legolas nodded slowly. "You speak like the man of honor I judged you to be. I see what my father sees in you and I'm glad he can count on you. "

Thorin's cheeks had reddened noticeably at the words of the Elvenprince, and he thanked him with a respectful tilt of his head. "You honor me, Prince Legolas."

"Ion nín, the events have exhausted me," Thranduil intervened. "Now that you have assured yourself that I am well, I would like to sleep in peace."

"Of course, Adar," the Elvenprince replied immediately. "Collect your strength. I'll check on you later."

Respectfully, Legolas held his hand over his heart in farewell, before leaving, and Thorin also made an effort to get up to leave the room, but Thranduil had no intention of letting him go. "I do not want you to leave, Thorin. Stay with me."

"But I do not want to disturb your rest," the dwarf replied with a look into Thranduil's drawn face.

"I'll best rest with you by my side." The Elvenking lifted the covers and gestured for Thorin to slip underneath. When he noticed the doubtful look of the dwarf, he added, "Unless you are tired of my presence." 

"Of course not." Despite the encouragement, Thorin slipped out of his boots and pants still hesitantly, before he climbed onto the bed and slid under Thranduil's blanket. The dwarf had turned to one side and his hand rested on the elf's chest so that he could feel the steady heartbeat under his fingers and Thranduil had turned his head and smiled his through the burning contorted smile.

"I would love to kiss you as I did on the shore of the Celduin," Thorin confessed after saying nothing for a while. "But I'm scared to hurt you."

"You worry too much," Thranduil countered by half rising his upper body and leaning over to the dwarf. It was a thoughtful kiss given to him by the Elvenking, the weight of his body supported on his healthy arm, his face held so that the injured side was turned away, and only his lips touched those of Thorin. The dwarf lay spellbound, barely daring to breathe, for fear of destroying the moment. How he would have liked to bury his hand in Thranduil's hair and hold his head against him, as he had done so often in his dreams, but the worry of causing him pain was too great, so he just lay there and enjoyed the kiss with all his other senses.

After the long period of renunciation, it was like magic to feel Thranduil's mouth on his and the Eldar's breath on his face, sensing the scent of his skin and losing himself in the feelings that his beloved's presence set in him. Unintentionally, Thorin's sex hardened at the contact and he tried not to show it, but when Thranduil finally pulled away and dropped onto the bed, his hand grazed the middle of the dwarf by accident.

"I'm sorry," Thorin hastened to assure with burning cheeks. "I did not mean ... I mean ... it was not my intention ..."

"Shhh," Thranduil silenced his lover. "You have no reason to be shamed. It honors me that your body sings for me because I was not sure if you still have any desire for me now that I'm disfigured."

"What are you talking about, Amral?" Thorin replied in dismay. "Now that we can finally be together, I desire you more than ever. For me you will always be beautiful, even with the scars. "To express his words, Thorin mustered up his courage and leaned over the Elvenking. Soft as a butterfly's wing, the dwarf touched the edges of the burnt skin with his lips, felt Thranduil quiver beneath him, and finally buried his hand in Thorin's hair to direct him to kiss his lips again.

The kiss was bolder than the first, demanding, possessive, and Thorin's heart was racing wildly when he finally broke contact and sank back into the pillows, breathing heavily. His cock throbbed with excitement, but Thorin did not have the urge to give in. He was all the more surprised when he felt Thranduil's hand on the waistband of his pants. "Amral," he began harshly, but Thranduil silenced him again. "Shh," the Eldar whispered softly but firmly, then his fingers slipped under the rough fabric and found Thorin's sex there. Sharply the dwarf drew in his breath as the Elvenking's hand closed around his erected member and his pelvis jerked yearning upward. Cleverly Thranduil began to stimulate his hardness, alternately pumping his shaft, massaging his testicles and caressed with the index finger the slit at the top of his penis, from which the first, warm drops of precome poured. Overwhelmed Thorin had closed his eyes, his hands clawed into the sheet on the right and left of his body, while he was completely lost in the sweet torment. It was not long before he felt his climax rising. Like a distant thunderstorm the heat clenched in his midst, drawing into the testicles and thence into his stiff shaft, until it finally burst forth with all its might.

"Yes, Amral," Thorin gasped as his semen spilled damply into Thranduil's hand. "Oh, Mahal, yes." Again and again, his manhood contracted until Thorin was completely spent and Thranduil had milked the last drop out of him. It was not until his member flatened that the Eldar withdrew his hand and instead rested his head against Thorin's shoulder who shivered from the aftermath of the orgasm. Tenderly the dwarf groped for Thranduil's hand, still feeling the moisture of his climax on the Eldar's fingers as he led it to his mouth and kissed it. His body suddenly felt pleasantly heavy and exhausted, so he drowsily dipped his face in Thranduil's hair and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "I love you, Âzungal," he mumbled softly, then tiredness overcame him and he let his body drift into a deep slumber.

 

Tbc ...


	14. Chapter 14

Once upon a time

Chapter 14

I`m bulletproof nothing to lose  
Fire away, fire away  
Ricochet, you take your aim  
Fire away, fire away  
You shoot me down but I won´t fall,  
I am titanium  
You shoot me down but I won`t fall,   
I am titanium

(David Guetta, Titanium)

 

For a while Thranduil was leaning against Thorin, listening to the dwarf's deep breathing as his own mind worked feverishly. The attack by Edrahil had hit him hard. To be threatened with death by a member of his people in his own palace was something Thranduil had not expected in his wildest dreams. For thousands of years he had been the ruler of Lasgalen and his elves had followed him through fire and blood to this day. But Edrahil was not from here, nor was it his own free will to become a murderer here and now. Since Mordor's creatures had not been able to defeat the soldiers of the Greenwood, they now tried cunningly to reach their destination. If Edrahil had succeeded and killed Thranduil, Lasgalen would have been defenseless against the armies of orcs. Although Legolas would have taken his place without hesitation, he was still young and inexperienced in leading an army, and it was to be feared that even with Galion's help, he would not have been up to the oncoming chaos. What his kingdom really needed right now was the feeling of security; the knowledge that the King of Lasgalen was as strong and powerful as ever, and Thranduil would do whatever was necessary to make that impression.

The last time he had taken his medicine was several hours ago, so his arm throbbed uncomfortably, and the pain on his face was growing by the minute, but Thranduil blocked all physical discomfort to concentrate on the essential. As carefully as possible, the Elvenking detached himself from his sleeping lover so as not to wake him and slid to the edge of the mattress. Gently he sat up without using his injured arm, then swung his legs off the bed and slowly shifted his weight on them. Dizziness made his vision swim as he could still only see with one eye and his balance was affected, but over time he got used to it. Thranduil's muscles, however, trembled visible, weakened by the lack of food and the long time he had been in bed, so that the fingers of his right hand digged into the mattress as he finally stood up. The trembling of his legs became stronger and cold sweat covered his body, but Thranduil wanted to bend his body to his will.

Clenching his teeth tightly, he let go of the bed and ordered his feet to move one step ahead of the other until he had gone one meter. His head was spinning and he felt like he was about to collapse, yet he forced his legs to keep going until he made it to the opposite wall. It was an almost ridiculous distance, yet Thranduil felt a certain triumph the moment his fingers touched the white wood, but he did not have much time to savor it.

"What do you think you're doing?" Startled, the Elvenking flinched when he heard Thorin's reproving voice from the bed. As dignified as possible, wearing only a nightgown, Thranduil turned around. In an attempt not to show his weakness, he kept his face completely expressionless.

"My kingdom needs me. I can no longer lie flat on my back and leave this burden to my son, "the Elvenking justified grimly.

"You have to give your wounds the chance to heal," Thorin tried to bring his lover to reason by climbing down from the bed and coming to meet him. "You're only a few days conscious, Amral."

"You've seen what happens when I seem weak," Thranduil demanded. "Who knows how many spies of Mordor are still here."

"They shall only try to harm you," Thorin growled when he reached the Elvenking. "I will send them all to hell."

Thranduil tenderly reached out his hand trembling with effort and patted the dwarf's bearded face. "It honors me that you defend me, but you do not help my kingdom with that. Mordor's shadow has been hovering over us for a long time and as long as they think me weak, my people will not be safe. "

"What do you want to do about it?"

Thranduil leaned against the wall in an attempt to steady himself as he replied, "I'll return to my private rooms tomorrow and I'll do it on my own legs. Every Eldar should see me cross the palace and if there really are spies among us, they can see that I'm back. When the Valar are with me, I will sit on the throne again from tomorrow on and hold my audiences. "

"That's madness, Amaralith!" Thorin shouted, who had not missed that Thranduil held himself upright only with difficulty. "You are white as the wall and can barely stand!" Gently he took the Eldar by the arm and led him back to the bed, Thranduil had to lean on him more than the Elvenking would like to admit. The tremor, which had started in his legs, had now spread to the whole body, even his teeth clattered, although he pressed them tightly together, and he barely managed the few meters until he could finally lie back on the bed. Immediately, Thorin covered him with the blanket and sat next to him on the edge of the mattress.

"I'll take the pain medicine and a strengthening potion, that will help me cross the distance to my rooms," the Elvenking replied as he closed his healthy eye to gather his strength. "Please tell the guards outside the door to send for the healer and get my son to discuss everything else."

"I do not like the plan," Thorin reiterated his displeasure. "Is not there a possibility that you think it over again?"

"No, Melleth nín," Thranduil replied, keeping his eyes closed. "There is no other possibility."

"Whatever you say, Amral," Thorin sighed, "but I can not imagine Legolas approving of your plan."

XXXXXX

The discussion with Legolas was, as Thorin had predicted, a heated affair. Perhaps he had guessed the reason for the conversation, or it was coincidence that the prince had brought Galion, Thorin could not say, but it was obvious that Thranduil's confidant did not think much of his king's plan, like Legolas. Although the three elves spoke in Sindarin, their facial expressions showed the inner fight they had with each other. Thranduil sat cross-legged on the bed, his upper body supported by a pile of cushions, while Legolas and Galion stood on the left side of the bed, intently addressing him, ignoring Thorin's presence as much as possible. Silently, the dwarf looked from one to the other, waiting patiently, which side would prevail in the end, but despite his irrational hope that Thranduil would accept reason at the urging of his son, it became increasingly clear that no one could dissuade the Elvenking from his decision. With a grim face, Legolas ended the retreat, only respect for his father prevented him from storming out of the room, but his movements were angular and his hands clenched into fists as he finally left the room, followed by Galion.

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil wiped the right half of his face in a tired gesture, intent on not touching any of the wounds, but before Thorin could ask him about his condition, it knocked respectfully on the door. At a word from the Elvenking, the chief healer entered the room, carrying a tray with several bottles and pots, and greeted Thranduil with a hint of a bow. Thranduil returned the greeting with a slight nod, then turned to the dwarf who, as before, stood to his right beside the bed. "Thorin, please be so kind to tell the servants to fix and bring my clothes for tomorrow. Also the jewelry and the crown. "

Thorin knew it was an excuse to send him away. Every lower servant could have delivered this message, but although he did not like being marginalized, he respected Thranduil's wish and left the room. The Healing Chambers were a little off the other rooms, a cocoon of peace and rest in the bustle that prevailed mostly in the palace of Lasgalens. Servants, artisans, and soldiers crossed Thorin's path as he strode down the corridors, penetrating ever deeper into the heart of the building, but unlike his first few days in the Greenwood, he hardly caused a stir. In fact, since the assassination he had prevented, he has been able to see genuine respect in some faces.

Knowing that Thranduil's talk with the healer would not be over so quickly, Thorin took time to convey the message of the Elvenking. Instead, he wandered idly through the palace, leaving the Audience Hall and Council Chambers behind, until he came to a gate leading into the adjoining garden. A winding path wound between fruit trees and shrubs full of berries to the fence that separated the garden from the forest that surrounded the palace on all sides. Gardeners in green robes weeded and pruned the perennials to just grow them, while others watered the beds and harvested vegetables, and in the middle of the garden, under a canopy of white cloths, sat a group of female elves on the ground with their eyes closed, holding hands and singing.

Although Thorin did not understand the lyrics of the song, he felt that it was powerful. It flowed through him, from head to toe, until every fiber of his body felt more alive than ever, only to leave him again through the soles of his feet and disappear into the earth. "What's the meaning of the song?" The dwarf turned curiously to a gardener who cut dried flowers from a rosebush.

"The priestesses pay homage to the life force of the plants," the Eldar explained. "Their singing stimulates them to grow and thrive."

Politely, Thorin thanked the gardener for the information before shaking his head. 'Elven magic,' he thought in disbelief. 'If grandfather had seen this.' Involuntarily, Thorin felt a pang as he remembered his family. How gladly would he have wandered around the palace with Frerin, had Dwalin tasted the Elvish wine, or showed Dís the large library that housed more books than Thorin had ever seen in his life. With each passing day he missed the dwarves more, but there was nothing he could do about it, and he finally forced himself to think of something else.

For a while he wandered through the extensive gardens, until he thought he had given Thranduil enough time. On his way back, he told one of the servants the wishes of the Elvenking, then he crossed the palace without further ado, until he stood again at the door of the Healing Chamber. Thorin did not know what he had expected, but when he was asked to come in on his knock, his breath caught in surprise at the sight of the Elvenking. Unlike before, the Eldar was no longer in bed, sitting in a chair by the window. Instead of the nightgown, he wore light trousers and a light tunic. "Thranduil," Thorin said in disbelief as he stepped closer, unable to take his eyes off his lover. "Your face, it's healed!"

"Yes, Melleth nín," the Eldar countered, standing up and walking toward the dwarf, his footsteps no longer uncertain but light-footed and firm as before, "it almost seems, is not it?" Where recently Thranduil's flesh had been burned to the tendons, healthy skin now covered his cheek. His left eye was no longer swollen beyond recognition, and the arm that Thranduil had not been able to stretch or bend properly hung down casually, as if he had never been hurt.

"It's a miracle," stammered Thorin in wonder. "A real miracle." Fascinated, the dwarf stretched out his fingers to touch his lover's face, but Thranduil caught his hand before the dwarf reached his target.

"No," he said softly but firmly. "It's just an illusion, nothing more. The healer helped me with his potions to numb the pain and fortify me enough to keep the spell up, but I'm afraid if you touch the spot, the glow will fade. "

Incredulous, Thorin looked at his lover. "It's not real?" He asked.

"No, it's not," Thranduil confirmed, and Thorin could see the grief in his eyes. "It's just a reflection of what I looked like once."

The dwarf shook his head in dismay. "But why? Why are you torturing yourself like this? "

"It will be my mask to the public so no one can see my disfigured face," Thranduil countered. "Maybe my wounds will never close, but with the magic I seem as strong and healthy, as I always was and always must be for my people."

Thorin's face darkened visibly at these words. "Then finish the spell now," he demanded.

"Why?" Thranduil asked confused. "Is not it easier for you to be with me like this? The face you fell in love with, and not the wounds and the pain? "

"No, that's not it. It is not real. I want all of you, including the pains and disfigurements." Determined, Thorin shook the Eldar's hand off and touched his cheekbone, causing the illusion to flicker and finally breaking like a mirror until nothing was left of it. Carefully Thorin stroked along the edge of the wound to Thranduil's neck, then he pulled down the head of the Elvenking and kissed him gently on the right corner of his mouth. "I do not want you to put on a mask for me. I always want to see you as you are and not what you want others to see. "

With these words, Thorin took the elf's hand and led him back to the bed. "I want to show you what I feel for you by giving you something like you did yesterday," the dwarf confessed to his lover as he slipped out of his boots and trousers.

Thranduil stared at him with a blank expression, "Thorin, you do not have to." The dwarf immediately interrupted him by saying: "But I want it." Since the Eldar did not make any attempt to undress, Thorin took over pulling off his tunic, being careful not to touch Thranduil's burnt arm unnecessarily, then began fumbling with the laces of his pants until Thranduil finally helped, untied the ribbons and stripped off his leggings. He hesitantly followed Thorin over to the bed, but the dwarf showed no doubt as he pushed Thranduil into the pillows and climbed onto the mattress beside him. His face showed ferocious determination as he pushed the Eldar's legs apart and knelt in the space he had created.

"Close your eyes, Amaralith," Thorin told his lover, and Thranduil obeyed hesitantly. Despite knowing what was coming, Thranduil could not help but flinch when he felt Thorin's hand in his undergarment grabing for his penis. The dwarf's fingers were calloused and rough from work in the mountain, but he was as cautious as if embracing a great treasure while he closed the huge paw around the delicate flesh. Though he was required to lead Thorin, the Eldar lay quite still, his good hand clawing at the sheet beside him, giving in to the feeling that Thorin's hand triggered in his lower body. A moan escaped Thranduil's lips, encouraging Thorin to move his fingers and slowly massage his lover's shaft. In the beginning, the movements were a bit awkward, but what Thorin could not muster in experience, he made up for with his eagerness. With a sensitivity that would not have been expected of the dwarf's coarse hands, Thorin stroked the penis, repeatedly pushing the foreskin back from the sensitive tip until he felt Thranduil's cock hardening by filling with blood until it lay firmly in his hand, then suddenly Thorin let go of him, causing Thranduil to open his eyes in surprise.

"Be patient with me, I've never done this before," the dwarf confessed with blushing cheeks as he pushed Thranduil's slips down and before Thranduil could reply, the dwarf took his shaft into his mouth.

"Thorin!" The Eldar shouted, as his lover's lips closed around the erected flesh and he let it plunge deep into his mouth. A delicious draft spread in Thranduil's loins and echoed throughout his body as a warm echo, while Thorin held both hands on his thighs, letting his cock slide halfway out, only to suck it into his mouth again. In his inexperience, the dwarf's teeth brushed over the sensitive tip, causing Thranduil to elicit a hiss.

"Careful, Muin nín," he muttered, burying his good hand in Thorin's hair and gently pulling him back. "Take your fingers to help." Without letting go of Thanduil's manhood, Thorin did as he was told and grasped the penis with his hand while sucking the shaft in again, this time paying attention not to discard the Eldar, causing Thranduil to a renewed, comforting groan. Encouraged by these sounds, Throin's tongue playfully circled the delicate glans and licked the small slit at the top, from which small drops of precome poured as his hand kept pumping the shaft incessantly. He did not fail to notice that Thranduil was already shaking under him. The Eldar's legs squeezed painfully around Thorin's hips and his abdomen jerked uncontrollably upwards against the dwarf's hands, making Thorin more and more courageous until he sucked Thranduil's cook so deep that it almost hit his throat.

Aroused, the Elvenking gasped as Thorin almost swallowed him, the dwarf's beard scratched over his groin and his hand had left its hardness, now stimulating his testicles, which continued to swell until Thranduil thought he was about to explode. "Thorin, not," warned the Eldar hoarsely, "I will not be able to hold back much longer." But the dwarf was not about to stop, instead, his lover's confession spurred him to continue his efforts. Once again, Thorin sucked Thranduil's cock deep inside, trying to relax his muscles enough to fully swallow him without choking, until the reflex clicked in and his throat closed around Thranduil's hardness. The feeling of Thorin's muscles vibrating around him sent the Elvenking finally over the edge.

"Thorin!“ Thranduil shouted again, trying to push the dwarf's head away, but Thorin did not want to let go when Thranduil's climax caught him. With the power of primordial force, his loins clenched and spilled his seed out, deep into the dwarf's throat, who stoically swalled everything Thranduil gave him. Elvish words dripped from the Eldar's lips without being able to stop them, fingers firmly buried in Thorin's mane, while his body gave everything he had before slumping back weakly and trembling. Only now, when Thranduil's cock flatened, did Thorin pull back and release him to fall onto the mattress next to the Elvenking. For a while they lay in silence while Thranduil relived the aftermath of the orgasm. Red patches covered his pale cheeks, his breath came labored, and his lips were red and swollen from the act of love. Thorin, his head propped on one arm, stroked Thranduil's chest in small circles and felt his racing heartbeat as he waited for the Eldar to recover, who was lying with his eyes closed. When Thranduil finally lifted the lid of his healthy eye, the iris shone brightly and he smiled relaxed. "Thank you, Melleth nín."

"There's nothing to thank," the dwarf replied. "It was at least as nice for me as it was for you. Sleep now, Amral. Gather your strength for your tomorrow's appearance. "With these words, Thorin leaned over his lover and kissed him long and tenderly, then he took the blanket from the edge of the bed and spread it over both of them, before rejoining Thranduil's side. This time the Eldar fell asleep almost immediatly, exhausted by the physical and emotional efforts of the day, while Thorin watched over him until nightfall and he himself fell into a dreamless slumber.

 

Tbc ...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry you had to wait so long for an update. I had been in a hospital for several weeks, because I suffered from depressions. Hopefully I will continue now more regularly. Feedback is always welcome.

Once upon a time

Chapter 15

Trust I seek and I find in you  
Every day for us something new  
Open mind for a diffrent view  
And nothing else matters

(Metallica, Nothing else matters)

 

When Thorin saw the pile of clothing and jewelry a servant brought to the healing chamber, he could not believe that Thranduil really wanted to wear all of it, but he was careful not to spill his opinion. Instead, he sat in silence as the servant diligently dressed the Elvenking in his fine robes, from the underwear of light linen to the high-necked, white shirt with the wine-red waistcoat and dyed-leather trousers that fit like a second skin on Thranduil's legs, to the dark boots that reached to the knees and the richly embroidered coat that was so long that its hem almost touched the floor. Thorin himself would take one of the two robes from the bundle he had brought from the Erebor. They were not particularly fine garments, two vests, a pair of coarse and a pair of trousers, and two shirts, but Thorin had never spent much thoughts on clothing, and since he was in the Greenwood, he had had no reason to think about his appearance.

It was a strange feeling to watch Thranduil's transformation, for with every layer he put on, the man Thorin knew disappeared more and more, until he had transformed himself into a beautiful but cold statue. Immediately after breakfast, before Thranduil had sent for the servant, the healer had already been with him, cleaning and treating his wounds and giving him the necessary potions so that the Elvenking could provide his face and body with the illusion spell. Even though the servant was ordered not to talk about anything he had seen or heard in Thranduil's chambers, the Eldar did not want to take any riskes.

When the servant finally put the heavy rings on, until his fingers sparkled and radiated and helped him to secure the crown in his hair, the transformation to the mighty Elvenking was finally perfect. Thranduil carefully stood up from his chair so that the crown would not slip, and motioned Thorin, with a slight inclination of his head, to follow him as he walked to the door of the infirmary, where Legolas and Galion were already waiting for him with two guards. Thranduil's confidant greeted the king with an implied bow, while the prince cocked his head slightly. "Adar, I scheduled the audiences for noon today if you agree," Legolas greeted his father, and Thorin recognized from the way he looked at him that the prince appreciated the spell as less as he did.

"I agree," Thranduil replied coldly. "Did you order the council as well?"

"Yes, the meeting will be before the audiences, as you wished."

"Excellent." With these words Thranduil turned away and walked steadily flanked by the guards, down the hall to the main wing of the palace, Thorin close behind him. The dwarf had to hurry to keep up with the elven's expansive stride as Thranduil looked forward without even glacing to see if Thorin was still at his side. To the right and left of them, the servants sank like flowers in a storm on their knees when the king passed them, and Thorin became aware of how much the relationship of the elves to their ruler was differed from that of Thrór to his people. Unlike the dwarves of Erebor who were bound to their king by fear, Thorin saw in the faces of the elves admiration, respect, and trust as they bowed their knees before him, and though Thranduil neither stopped nor gave away something, Thorin knew that the Elvenking enjoyed his people looking up to him,because he endured all the pain and suffering only to serve them. Throughout the palace there was the same picture as Thranduil and his escort passed. Everyone seemed happy and relieved to see the king well and it was difficult for Thorin to imagine that there should still be someone among them who could wish for Thranduil to die. Still, he was glad of the guards who followed their way through the palace until they finally reached Thranduil's private quarters. The room was at the top of a wooden staircase, which was so long that Thorin thought he had climbed up to the clouds. Respectfully, one of the guards opened the door to let Thranduil enter, while the second guard took up position next to the doorframe, then, as Thorin had crossed the door, the guard closed the door from behind him.

As Thranduil slipped through the room and sank into a chair, Thorin persisted in the middle of the room, looking around curiously. The room was colored in different shades of white, from the ivory-colored walls, to the wool-white armchairs, to the cloud-colored four-poster bed. Two other doors, one of which was ajar, gave view to an alabaster bathing chamber. Looking through the large windows where was a sweeping balcony behind, Thorin knew that they really seemed to be very high up because he could see the tops of the trees and the blue of the sky.

"Do you like my sanctuary?" Thranduil asked from the chair.

"Very much," Thorin replied as he let his gaze wander outside over the Greenwood. "It's so quiet and peaceful up here."

"Yes it is. From here I can see almost my entire kingdom, "the Elvenking replied, and Thorin could hear the pride in his voice. "If you want, I'll have a servant bring your things here, Melleth. I have plenty of room and the bed is wide enough for the two of us. Unless you prefer to spend the night in your own chamber. "

Since Thranduil's return to Lasgalen, Thorin had visited his room only when he wanted to take a bath or change clothes, spending every other free minute at the side of the Elvenking, and he saw no need to change it now. "I'd like to share the room with you, if you like," Thorin replied warmly as he stepped beside the chair.

"Then be assured that you are very welcome to me," Thranduil replied with a faint smile. Although no fireplace heated the room, it was pleasantly warm inside, but it was not due to the temperature, that a slight sweat had appeared on Thranduils upper lip.

"You should rest," Thorin advised his lover, noting the tired appearance of the Eldar. Apparently the effort to keep the spell up as he walked through the palace had consumed all his reserves.

"There's no time for that, Melleth," Thranduil replied, but he closed his eyes anyway. He had ended the illusion spell before and now lowered his head back against the headrest to relieve him of the weight of the crown, but his body seemed tense and his fingers dug firmly into the armrests.

"It's still a while until lunchtime," Thorin replied as he reached out and gently massaged the deep furrow that formed between Thranduil's eyebrows.

"Do not worry," the Elvenking murmured softly, taking Thorin's hand and bringing it to his lips. "Just let me sit here and gather my strength, then I'll have recovered at lunchtime."

"As you say," Thorin replied as he gently traced the edge of Thranduil's jaw, then withdrew and stood up. Something had aroused his curiosity and he wanted to see if it really was what he thought it was. In fact, he recognized the carved stag he had given to the Elvenking on the bedside table next to the bed. "You kept it," the dwarf said, picking it up and stroking it with a pensive smile.

"Of course," Thranduil replied, after opening his eyes for a moment, realizing what Thorin was talking about. "Even though it did not take an item to remind me of you, my heart was pleased to see it last before I fell asleep and, first of all, when I awoke."

Thorin felt a warm tingling spread in his stomach at these words. "I also have a souvenir, you know, even if you did not knowingly gave it to me," he confessed as he returned to Thranduil and pulled the silver clasp out of his pocket. "You lost it when we met at the edge of the forest for the second time."

"Indeed," the Elvenking replied when he recognized the jewel. "I already wondered where it was. And you kept it all the time? "

"I have," Thorin confirmed. „ It was a faithful companion to me during your absence, but if you want, I'll give it back to you now." The dwarf held out the clasp to the other man, but Thranduil refused to take it. "No, just keep it. I have dozens of them. Unfortunately, I must confess that the wonderful bangle that you made for me is not longer mine. I took it into the fight with me, so I could carry something of you with me, but the fire melted it from my skin and left nothing but burnt flesh. "

To his shame Thorin had to admit that he had not even missed his courting gift by that time, but it had been eventful days. "I'll make you a new, more beautiful one," promised the dwarf fervently. "Tomorrow I will go to the smithy and start with it."

"You don't need to. You have already given me so much while I have not found a gift that is worthy of you, "replied the Elvenking with a touch of shame in his voice.

"But I want to, because even if it will never been seen by a dwarf, our law requires to seal the promise of marriage with a piece of jewelry and I look forward to renew my oath to you by another bangle or other jewelry while you look after the fortunes of your kingdom, "Thorin insisted stubbornly.

"You have already given me so much, Melleth. I can never repay you. "

"You do not need that either," Thorin announced as he leaned over the Elvenking. "Being with you is all I can wish for." With these words, the dwarf covered Thranduil's lips with his. Despite the worries about the assassin, he felt for the first time in a long time calm and contented, because he finally had the feeling that he had reached his destiny.

XXXXXX

Thorin knew the location of the rooms of the council from his walks through the palace, but he had never entered. Massive, dark doors hid what was inside them from prying eyes, and when the members met, guards made sure no-one stepped in who was not allowed to. From afar, Thorin could see Legolas and Galion waiting outside for the king, and when Thranduil with Thorin escorting him, approached them, the guards hurried to open the doors to let them in, but to Thorin's surprise, Galion barred them path. "My king," he said to Thranduil in Sindarin, bowing respectfully, but not before throwing a derogatory glance at Thorin. "You can not take this dwarf to the council."

"It's not up to you to decide what I can or can not do," Thranduil replied harshly, trying to push past his confidant, but Galion made no move to back down.

"No one who is not a member of the council is allowed to know about the affairs of the kingdom, it is written in the law," insisted Galion stubbornly.

"I am the king of this kingdom," replied Thranduil coldly. "And I trust Thorin and that's why I'll take him to the council meeting. If you are reluctant to do so, you are free to give a complaint to the council, but I urge you to reconsider your priorities. "

"Of course, Adar. Galion just wanted to make sure you did not miss the fact, "Legolas hurried to reassure himself as he pulled the other elf aside so that Thranduil and Thorin could finally pass. Galion said nothing, but it was clear to see in his eyes that the discussion had not ended for him when the two men passed. For the moment he let the king have his way, but the look he gave Thorin left no doubt what he thought of the dwarf.

Thorin, who had not been able to follow the conversation because of the foreign language, but suspected it was about him, followed Thranduil, who, after passing the doors, quickly crossed the room until he reached the top of a large table. Most of the other chairs were already occupied and there had been a loud buzz of voices, but when the king entered the room, it suddenly became quiet. The council members had risen and respectfully bowed until Thranduil signaled them to sit again. "I do not want to cause any problems," Thorin said as Thranduil wanted to sit down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Legoals and Galion sitting on the other side of the table. "Maybe I should go back to your rooms."

"Nonsense," Thranduil replied firmly as he sank finally down into the high-backed chair and ordered a servant to fetch another chair for Thorin. "I want you to stay. Galion has just seen too much in his life to come over his prejudices against you, but that should not be your concern. "

"I just do not want my presence to bring bad blood," Thorin explained as he complied with Thranduil's request and laboriously climbed onto the chair beside him that was so high that Thorin's legs dangled in the air. The dwarf was well aware that everyone's gaze was on him and he could not fight the blood rising warm to his cheeks.

"Do not worry. That won't happen. They will get used to it, "Thranduil countered, letting his eyes wander one after another over the faces of the councilors, and his gaze alone made them to awoid his gaze until they stared at the table in front of them. Only Galion was not ready to bow to his will, but returned the look with the same strength of will as his king, so that the contact broke only when Legolas finally opened the council meeting.

XXXXXX

With a sigh of relief, Thorin brushed the boots off his feet that the moment the door of their room had closed behind them. The sun had already set a while ago so that the room was lit only by a few candles. Great Mahal, it had really been a long day. First, the council meeting, which was also held in elvish, as well as the hours-long audiences that followed, and Thorin had wondered more than once what Galion had been so worried about. Thorin had barely understood anything about the conversations around him, and the few he understood on the basis of a few words he knew, as well as gestures and facial expressions, had hardly been important secrets. In fact, there had been disputes over merchandise, which probably had not been delivered as agreed, and about sending diplomatic delegations to the West, where Thorin could not tell. At some point his thoughts had wandered off anyway, had retreated back to Erebor and were then constantly circled around the question of whether his siblings and friends were well. Memories, both good and bad, had haunted him and he had only awakened from them when Thranduil rose and declared the audiences over.

Although he had spent most of the day sitting, Thorin was now hungry and tired, having only had a light meal of fruit and lembas between the council meeting and the audiences. He was all the more grateful to discover that the servants had already covered the table in Thranduil's chamber with food and drink. Without thinking, the dwarf threw himself on one of the chairs and greedily filled his plate with the fragrant delicacies, only then realized that Thranduil made no move to sit down next to him. Instead, the Elvenking stood at the dresser, which was next to the bed and laid down one after another of his rings, before he released the heavy crown from his hair.

"What about you, Amral?" Thorin asked as he filled his glass with wine. "Do not you want to share the meal with me?"

"I'm not hungry yet, Melleth," Thranduil replied, kicking his boots off and then slipping his coat off his shoulders.

"But you have to eat something," protested the dwarf, who had seen how much Thranduil had suffered to sustain the illusion as the day progressed. "Your body needs it. The spell takes so much power from you. "

"Later, Muin nín," the Elvenking returned, undressing his shirt before laying down on the bed. "I just want to rest for a while, then I'll dine. I promise it."

"Alright, rest, Amral. "As quietly as possible, so as not to disturb his lover, Thorin ate his meal, generously filing this glass for a secont time with the wine until he was saturated and his body felt pleasantly heavy. When he finally got up, his mind was sluggish, thanks to the wine, so his fingers were jerky as he tried to slip out of his clothes and it took several tries to open the laces of his pants.

Puffing, Thorin climbed onto the bed and crawled on all fours over to his lover, who was lying just as he had before. At Thranduil's sight, which resembled an angel with the blond hair that framed his face, Thorin's heart became wide with love. Thranduil's deep breathing testified that he was asleep, and the spell that had concealed his disfigured face during the day was now gone, so Thorin could see in the light of the candles the bad burns that covered the elf's left half of his face. But Thorin was no longer startled by the wounds, instead he leaned over the sleeping Eldar and kissed him gently on the forehead. After reassuring himself that he had not awakened the Elvenking, he quickly blew out the candles beside the bed before he slid close to Thranduil's body, then put his arm around his middle and buried his head on his shoulder , "Good night, Âzyungel," Thorin murmured softly. "May the stars watch over you and the moon be your keeper until the sun wakes you tomorrow."

 

Tbc ...


End file.
